Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And how many people die, this time?” Nobara asked in with as little interest as was possible. 

Junpei didn't look up. “Why’s that matter?” 

Nobara exhaled like a sigh. “Because every movie you pick ends with girls chopped up in the woods.”

Junpei’s head turned over his shoulder, facing Nobara with a snap. “They don’t all end that way!

It was one time! And I Know You Know What You’ll Do This Summer Camp is subversive!” 

“He’s right!” Yuji spoke over him, his grin beaming. “Slashers don’t end that way. That usually happens at the start!” 

Nobara sighed. Junpei closed the Blu-Ray case. “...Itadori?” 

Yuji blinked. “Yeah?” 

From how innocent Yuji looked at that second, it took a second for Junpei to gather enough will to speak. “Itadori. Uh. I don’t think that’s helping?”

“...It’s not?”

The way Yuji blinked was so innocuously oblivious that Junpei had a hard time judging him for it. The challenge was not shared by Nobara, who tossed her hair, then crouched by the wall of Blu-Rays by the communal TV. “How about you let someone with taste pick, for once.” 

Junpei’s head snapped right back up. “I have taste!” 

Yuji echoed a “yeah!”

“If bad taste is taste, then, sure you do.” Nobara ran her thumb across the spines. She pinched the edge of ‘ Miss Congeniality ‘, which was a perfectly fine movie if it weren’t for the fact that Nobara chose the same thing last week. “Here. Watch this. It can teach you that good movies exist.”

Junpei’s visible eye turned flat. “We’ve already watched it.” 

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Not well enough.” 

It was supposed to be movie night. 

For once, all four first years were on campus. No one had been assigned to a mission, or given extra lessons, or told to spend the night in the infirmary. It was Yuji’s first suggestion when Junpei joined the class that they make a point to spend time together by bonding over something that anyone could enjoy—at least, in theory. 

The few times they’d managed to host a first year movie night, Junpei hadn’t gotten that warm sense of camaraderie and acceptance that Yuji told him would come. 

Megumi only seemed to care about movie night when he’d picked the movie—a documentary about rampant abuse of whales in captivity that put everyone else to sleep. When it wasn’t Nobara’s turn to pick, she spent half the run time complaining, which drove Junpei crazier than he already was. Still, no matter their frustrations, all four first years had gathered. However much they clashed, no one had it in them to tell Yuji no. 

If Yuji wasn’t directly between them at this second, Junpei wasn’t convinced Nobara wouldn’t have tried to reenact I Know You Know What You’ll Do this Summer Camp with Junpei as the victim. He could imagine the cinematography, the backlights obscuring their PJs. 

Nobara didn’t exactly look like a threat in this lighting. Her hair was pulled back in a terry cloth headband. Moisturizing cream dabbed in streaks under her eyes. Yuji’s boxers and hoodie combo with fluffy polka-dot socks wasn’t much better. In terms of visual ridiculousness, Junpei would have been the worst of the lot, in bug-patterned pajama pants and matching Beetlejuice slippers complete with glow-in-the-dark fluff hair and googly eyes. Objectively, the only one of them who didn’t look ridiculous was Megumi, and that was because he’d done nothing at all. He sat on the couch, reading and pointedly staying out of this conversation completely. 

Nobara lowered herself to one knee,  checking the Blu-Ray shelf again. “What about Beauty and the Beast ?”

Yuji perked up. “The cartoon?” 

“No. The new one.” 

“There’s a new one?” 

“Yeah, with Emma Watson. It’s live action.” 

Junpei narrowed one visible, skeptical eye. “Barely. Once she gets to the castle, everyone else is CG. The animated one’s better.” 

“Better to who?” 

“To people who care about narrative structure The script’s tighter. And the lead actress can sing.”

Nobara pushed off from the shelf. She cracked her knuckles, and used the sudden shift in height to look down on someone who was otherwise the same size. “It’s a musical! Of course she sings!” 

“...Well?” 

Junpei asked the question with just enough judgment that Nobara’s eyes snapped into a slant.

“She sings better than you! You’re just jealous!”

“Wha? Why-” Junpei started to sputter. Before he could unscramble his brain well enough to answer, Yuji pushed Nobara and Junpei apart.

“Hey! I’ve got one! Let’s watch Jennifer’s Body!”

Yuji plucked the Blu Ray off the shelf, flashing the picture on the box towards them both. It wasn’t Junpei’s favorite, but it was more than good enough for him to nod along. “Sure.” 

Nobara was less convinced. She raised an eyebrow. “Which Jennifer?”

“The… character?” 

However baffled Yuji was by the question, it didn’t stop Nobara from looking disgusted. “Who dies, this time?” 

Thankfully Junpei was used to disgust. 

“In Jennifer's Body? Men. Mostly,” Junpei answered as flatly as he could. “…If anything, they’re kind of sapphic.” 

With the enthusiasm Junpei would have expected from a cactus, Megumi looked down at the group. 

“Itadori.” 

“Yes?” 

“There’s a test tomorrow.” 

“There is?”

Megumi’s dark eyes stayed blank. He focused on Yuji, specifically, the quiet exasperation turning calm as he spoke. “You should sleep.” 

Nobara tossed her hair. “You’re right. Beauty needs rest.” 

Megumi closed his book. “I was talking to Itadori.” 

Whatever composure had been in Nobara’s expression, it drained out instantly. “Then say Itadori, first!” 

Yuji put the Blu-Ray into the player. He leaned back on the floor, looking through the chaos, unaffected. “You wanna join, Fushiguro? It’s good.” 

“Would you be quiet?” 

Junpei turned the same way, following Yuji’s line of sight with his own. “Probably?”

At the same time, Yuji said “no.” 

Gojo said “no”, too. Until that second, Gojo wasn’t there. 

The conversation stopped. All four first years looked. Even Megumi lowered his book enough to peek. Yuji’s arms shot over his head. 

“Gojo-sensei!” 

Gojo bent at his waist, not so much bowing as looming. “It’s-a-me! Gojo! 

Megumi didn’t put the book down. “What are you doing here?” he asked, disinterested. 

Gojo grinned with enough interest for the both of them. “Me? I’m interrupting!”

“...I can tell.” 

However dry and unimpressed Megumi could sound, it didn’t phase Gojo at all. He waved his hand in front of Megumi. “Oh, I’m not interrupting you !”

“Yes. You are.” 

Megumi’s attempt to correct Gojo went ignored. Gojo snapped his fingers, then pointed towards Yuji. “I’m interrupting you!” 

“Me?” Yuji squeaked. 

Gojo nodded. He waved his hand over his head, then pointed dramatically to Junpei. 

“And you! It’s mission time!!” 

Junpei barely found enough focus to say “huh-“

“It means, it’s time for a mission. You’ve been assigned!” 

Nobara cocked her head to the side. “At nine thirty at night?” 

Nobara’s stare shifted, clearly questioning. Megumi didn’t bother speaking, but his skepticism landed just the same. Gojo raised his shoulders. 

“Not like I told curses to be nocturnal! They’re just like that.” 

Yuji looked up, openly confused. “Doesn’t Ijichi bring our missions?” 

“Not today! Ijichi’s buying my groceries, which means you get missions from me!” 

“I can see that,” said Megumi. 

Yuji blinked. “You eat groceries?” 

Gojo nodded along to both. He put his hand on Yuji’s shoulder. “There’s all kinds of groceries! Even Ramune popsicles are groceries! Or cake!” 

The “ohhh” Yuji answered seemed to find some genuine understanding. The other first years were less impressed.  

“Can’t you get your own groceries?” Nobara asked. 

Gojo nodded again. “Sure could!” 

From what Junpei had learned of Gojo, he could guess plenty well why he’d delegated buying his sweets to the manager. What he was less sure of was why Gojo had come here. 

So far, the only time Junpei had been asked to go on a mission was because Yuji requested him. He hadn’t done much in class to prove his worth, yet. The few times he’d tried sparring with his classmates, it took all of ten seconds for him to get pinned. If there was a serious threat to deal with, it made more sense to send the others and leave him behind. 

“Why me?” Junpei asked, at a loss. 

Gojo may or may not have been looking at Junpei, but his blindfold sure faced him. “Because I said so.” 

Nobara put her hand on her chest. “Why not me?” 

“Don’t most missions need all of us? It’s more efficient that way,” Megumi added on. 

Gojo nodded along, adding “uh-huhs” that sounded far less like agreement than him not listening. His hair waved over the bandages like a troll doll’s—though the way in which he smiled made Junpei wonder if he was just a troll. “Not this one! Bye, bis!” 

Gojo wiggled his fingers in Megumi‘s face. Megumi stared like his eyes could sigh. 

Nobara tapped her slipper. She squinted in scrutiny. “You mean, bye? You’re saying it weird.”

“Nope!” 

Before anyone could argue, Gojo hooked his arm around Yuji, pulling him and Junpei closer in the process.

The floor where Junpei should have caught himself never found his heel. He’d barely sputtered “huh—“ when the world lost all color. Where, before, there had been flat walls and faded communal furniture, now, there was nothing. He fell, and kept falling, through nothing. He was still saying “huh” when both feet found the floor. 

The ground was harder than expected, a sting rising through his heel. Junpei wobbled in his Beetlejuice slippers. The green, frizzy fake hair flopped, the oversized cartoon heads bobbing like they were nodding enthusiastically. The rest of Junpei struggled to catch himself on the nearest thing. It wasn’t until he heard Yuji speak that Junpei realized that the closest thing he’d grabbed onto was Yuji.

Yuji steadied Junpei with a squeeze, forcing him from his vertigo to stand straight. He put a hand on either of Junpei’s shoulders, propping him upright. 

“Don’t worry! All good!” Yuji clapped Junpei’s shoulders encouragingly. “I got stunned my first time, too! It’s all wobble-wibble.” 

Junpei barely managed to squeak, “too?” He couldn’t finish the question. 

“Here we are!” 

Junpei blinked. “Here? Where’s ‘here’?”

“Your mission!”Gojo spread his arms so wide, he seemed to be trying to hug the air—or start a too-enthusiastic version of the ‘YMCA’. 

Wherever they were, the ceiling was high. The walls were sparse. The shelves, less so. Everywhere Junpei looked, all he could spot were boxes. 

“…A warehouse?” Junpei guessed. 

Yuji turned the other way. He tilted his head, watching the entrance. “…IKEA?” 

The way Yuji questioned it, Junpei wasn’t sure what he heard. “You keyed a what?” 

Before he could finish, Gojo snapped his fingers. ”Bingo! You win!” 

Yuji perked up, his eyes shining. “I do??”

“Sure do!”

“What’d I win?” 

Gojo raised his hand back over his head. The half of his expression that Junpei could see turned blank. When he finished what might have been blinking, he waved his hand across his face. “…Next question!”

The rows of cardboard boxes had an end. That end was far from where they stood. Giant rolling carts stood at the entrance. Narrow labels were pinned to the shelves, to give some fleeting hint to what they might find inside them. It was a storage facility of some kind, but not an optimal one. If Junpei had seen any place like this before, then he hadn’t looked long enough to remember.

“What are we supposed to do?” Junpei asked himself, unsure. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who heard him. 

“Good question!” Gojo clapped his hands, then turned his head. “Yuji!” 

Yuji turned around. “Yep?” 

“You be look out!” 

Gojo pointed out the door. Yuji raised his hand in a salute. ”Got it!”

If they were near a superior officer, Junpei didn’t see them. All he saw was Yuji, facing the door. Yuji’s hand cupped over his eyes, the gesture halfway between a salute, and keeping focus on the open space behind them. 

The part of the warehouse that Junpei could see didn’t feel like a threat. He squinted into the darkness, searching for a trace of a residual. Across every box, nook and shadow, Junpei couldn’t see a single spec. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t so much as a hint of a curse in this place. The only distortions from cursed energy here were the ones Gojo left behind. 

Junpei started to turn in the same direction. “Itad–” He lost the sound. 

Gojo’s arm hooked across Junpei’s shoulder, pulling him tight with a “Shh!” 

The sudden brush made Junpei jolt. His hands flattened, his posture shifting to the verge of summoning Moon Dregs. Just as Moon could have emerged, Gojo gripped Junpei tighter. He turned Junpei away from Yuji and the window. 

“Yuji!” Gojo shouted. 

“Yeah?” 

“Good watching! Keep it up!” 

“You got it!” 

“...Got what?” Junpei asked, his words far closer to a mumble. 

Gojo stretched his arm even farther. He pressed a finger to Junpei’s lips. The contact made Junpei tense–but it did shut his thoughts up long enough for him to hear Gojo in his ear. “I got the mission report from Nanamin.” 

The way Gojo spoke didn’t sound like himself. It was quieter, restrained–at least by Gojo’s standards. It forced Junpei to lean in to ask. “What’d it say? Would it help, here?”

“Here?” Gojo’s voice raised slightly–not enough for it to cross the room, but enough for Junpei to hear the realization. “Oh, not this mission. Yours. The bog water slasher movie thing.” 

It took a second for Junpei to understand. “...You mean, the quarry?” 

“Yeah! That.” 

Gojo’s voice peaked back to normal. Junpei pulled back, both from the noise, and to get a clearer look at Gojo. With the blindfold in the way, there was only so much of Gojo’s expression that Junpei could see–but it was enough for him to spot the knowing slant on Gojo’s lips, like he knew something important, and was ready to tease Junpei for it. 

Junpei forced himself to ignore the second part. “You think this is related?” 

“Sure do.” 

As far as Junpei could hear, there was no reason not to believe Gojo. If nothing else, it explained why Junpei and Yuji were dispatched without the others. 

“So, it’s another cinematic curse?” 

Gojo’s smile shifted to one side. “...Not quite.” 

“Sensei!” Yuji shouted from the other side. “I don’t see anything!” 

Gojo raised his hands off of Junpei. He cupped one against his mouth as he shouted. “Great! Keep not seeing things!” 

Before Yuji could give a clear answer, Gojo pivoted right back. He pushed his hand on Junpei’s shoulder. The sudden shift in force nearly pushed Junpei to the wall. 

Junpei rocked on his feet, catching himself and his breath. “Sensei–” 

The hand on Junpei’s shoulder held tighter, catching him. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Gojo said, his words dipping back into a hush. “If you don’t make a move, fast, someone else will beat you to it…!” 

The whisper broke into a snicker. Junpei tried to pull away. He turned his blind side to Gojo, to give him the cover of his bangs as he tried to find his footing. “Wha…” 

Whatever confusion Junpei had towards the subject, Gojo didn’t leave him the room to ask. Instead, he leaned over Junpei’s shoulder, and held one finger up on either side. 

“Look. Here’s Itadori,” Gojo waved one finger. He lifted a second finger up. “Here’s you. And heeere…” Gojo raised his other hand, and extended his ring finger on the other side. “This one’s Fushiguro-chan!” 

Gojo raised the finger on the other hand. He pulled both hands close together. “Fushi-kun used to like someone else. Okkotsu-kun, who’s in Africa. But now…” 

Whatever else this was supposed to mean, Junpei was baffled enough to ask. “...You call him Megu-kun?” 

Gojo ignored that. 

“Now,” Gojo stuck his finger from his left hand directly between the two fingers he'd already raised. “Now, Megu-kun likes Yuji, leaving Okkotsu all alone with lions and giant burritos. But, if you like Yuji too, and Yuji likes you, and you get snugly, then Megumi will give up on Yuji and write Okkotsu back! Then, Okkotsu will come home from safari, and you and Itadori can… make out!” 

Gojo twisted the two fingers together that he’d used to represent Junpei and Yuji. From the way they were wiggling, Junpei wasn’t sure that was what making out was supposed to look like. If anything, it felt like Gojo meant something else. 

“I– uh…” 

Gojo uncrossed his fingers. His hand smacked right back over Junpei’s shoulder, hooking him tight. “So, that’s the mission! Get lucky!" 

Whatever composure Junpei managed to cling to, it flushed out of him in that shout. He practically sprang out of Gojo’s grip, gaping in horror “Oh my God, don't say that!" 

The shout was loud enough to cross the room. Yuji’s focus snapped. He turned, concerned. “Did I say something?" 

“Not you!” 

Gojo clapped his hands together. Blindfold or not, he faced directly towards Junpei. “Get to getting your guy, okay?”

Junpei could barely manage a “no–”

Gojo shouted, ignoring that. “Itadori1” 

Yuji popped back up. “Yeah?” 

“Look out for Junpei! If you find anything, report back. You’re not here to fight. We’re short on managers, so, you’re scouting, not combat, okay? Okay!” 

Junpei couldn’t help but to mumble. “...If they weren’t getting your groceries, maybe you wouldn’t be.” 

Yuji, who was too far away to hear that, simply raised his hand. “Got it!” 

Unbeknownst to Yuji, he did not, in fact, ‘have it’. There wasn’t a mission. There wasn’t even a curse–unless the curse words Junpei was repeating in his head towards Gojo were going to count. Whatever assumptions Gojo was apparently making about their love lives, it didn’t seem worth stranding them in a warehouse of disassembled furniture. 

“Gojo-sensei–!” Junpei raised his hand, trying to call his attention. He hadn’t finished speaking before Gojo was gone. 

“Sensei!” Junpei shouted. His voice lost before it could echo. The warehouse was too big for that. 

He didn’t know why he was surprised. Junpei had been disappointed by plenty of teachers. Up to this point, Gojo had seemed like the best of them. He likely still was. 

As Junpei stood in the warehouse,  the cold of a cement floor creeping up through his slippers, he understood that being the best of a disappointment could still mean ‘bad’. 

In the place of a complaint, Junpei looked at his phone. His Ghostface lock screen stared back at him. His signals showed full bars, and his battery was over 80%. 

“...At least, we can text,” Junpei mumbled. He wondered if complaining to Gojo would make him change his mind. He doubted it. 

In an emergency, a functional phone was still helpful. In a worst case scenario, they’d be able to call help. Even in the scenario they were in now, they could call a car back to campus, once Junpei opened GPS to find where the hell they even were.  Of course, if he wanted to call, first, he’d have to explain to Yuji why this wasn’t a mission they had to complete–if it counted as a mission at all. 

“Junpei?” Yuji called out. Junpei didn’t answer. Where he would have spoken, all he did was see. At the other end of the warehouse, past the doors and windows the full length of the wall, the night sky was distorting. It took a second for him to see why. 

The star speckled sky was overtaken with sludge, the veil of a curtain darker than darkness eclipsing what would have been there. In the absence of the starlight, Junpei understood what Gojo had done. As long as the curtain was there, no one should have found them. Not even an employee who could have come to stock the shelves would have found them. They wouldn’t be able to cross the sphere. As long as they wanted to be isolated, they would be. Junpei also knew if there was a curse they’d missed, the curtain would draw it to find them. 

Gojo said there wasn’t a curse here. Junpei couldn’t sense one. They weren’t here on a mission. It was a setup to set them up, whether Yuji was on board with that or not. 

“Junpei!” Yuji called louder. “Junpei!”

Junpei didn’t answer. He grit his teeth. 

Yuji’s fingers slipped between Junpei’s. He held tighter, then leaned down.

“…Junpei!” 

The sound was so close and quick, Junpei jolted back. “Huh—“ He couldn’t lean far. Yuji held on too tight to let him.

“You good? You didn’t hear me.” 

Junpei knew how he was supposed to answer that. He also knew what was true. “No,” he admitted. “No, I’m not. Are you?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

Yuji’s grip stayed just as steady. There was a warmth, if not a smile, in how Yuji asked that—as if, no matter what Junpei said, Yuji would listen. What was less sure was that he’d want to hear. 

Junpei felt Yuji’s hand around his. He tightened his own grip. 

“You–” Junpei stuttered. It was all he could get out. Whatever more he meant to say, it tangled too much to make sense. 

Yuji looked on, confused. “Did I do something?” 

“No–” 

“Then, what is it?” 

It wasn’t a matter of what Yuji did. At least, as far as Junpei could tell, the issue was closer to what he didn’t do. 

Junpei forced himself to swallow. “Not you. Gojo-sensei, I think. He’s weird.” 

Yuji smiled in relief. “Oh! He’s just like that.” 

“Weird?” 

“Rich people say eccentric! But, yeah. That. It’s fine! He’s nice about it.” 

“You call that nice? He stranded us.” 

“He’s gotta have a reason, though.” 

Junpei fought back the urge to sigh. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

“It’s not nowhere! It’s IKEA,” Yuji said, like that was better. Junpei wasn’t convinced that was better. Yuji shrugged. “It’s a mission, right? We can’t control where curses go. We’ve just gotta stop ‘em.” 

When Yuji spoke, he always made things sound so simple–so simple that Junpei didn’t know how to disagree. 

“...Sure,” Junpei said, far from it. 

Yuji turned his head over his shoulder, looking back. “What’d you say?” 

It was another simple question, maybe the simplest one all night. Junpei knew how to repeat himself. He didn’t. Instead, he faced the window. A glass panel the same size as the wall stretched before them. Not a hint of light passed through. Past the gloss of the barrier, all he could see was the curtain. In the center of the glass walls, the panel split through. Metal door handles were padlocked together, the thick chains dripping towards the floor. 

“...It’s locked,” Junpei noticed, well aware it was obvious. Yuji leaned over his shoulder. 

“It should be, right? Store’s closed.” 

“Then, how’d Gojo get in?” 

“The same way he left. He gets zippy-bendy.” 

“...Zippy? What’s that mean?” 

“...I dunno.” 

Junpei turned the same way, to ignore that opening and try to find Yuji’s eyes. From how close Yuji was to him, Junpei couldn’t see the details, only the blur of his profile as Yuji stepped back. He waved over his shoulder, deeper into the warehouse. “Wanna go in? The show floor won’t scout itself, right?”

Junpei turned on his cell phone. Despite the curtain, he could see a signal. The light of the screen was faint enough to hide his flush. 

If Junpei told Yuji what Gojo said to do, Yuji might not believe him. Even if he did, it would change things if Yuji didn’t feel the same. 

Junpei had spent long enough at Jujutsu Tech that he knew Megumi and Nobara. If he couldn’t be as close with Yuji, he might not be alone—but Yuji was the glue that kept them functional. He brought them together–if not as friends, then, at least to tolerate each other. 

It was still possible that what happened at the quarry was the result of the mission. Neither one of them would have brought up kissing if they didn’t think it would summon the curse. That Yuji agreed to it under duress didn’t mean he’d want to, now. What would happen if Junpei tried to kiss him, and Yuji only thought of him as a friend? How much worse would that make things, not just between him and Yuji, but with everyone? 

Junpei flipped the options in his head. Whether he listened to what Gojo told him to do, or he told Yuji and laughed it off, there was a risk to either option. If he tried, Yuji could reject him. He’d be kind, sure, but it would make things more difficult. If he didn’t, then, Gojo might be right. If Megumi did like Yuji, and he confessed to Yuji, first, would Junpei be okay with that? If Yuji might like Megumi, was that better to let it happen than to risk something, here? 

While Junpei was busy debating, Yuji kept walking. His shadow stretched in the light of Junpei’s phone, the silhouette of his head rounding a corner. The way he looked was so distracting, Junpei barely noticed when he stopped mid-step. 

“You coming?” Yuji asked, looking back. 

Junpei’s eyes broke from the squint. His heart stopped. “Itadori—?”

“Yeah?”

Junpei couldn’t justify the way he stopped feeling his heart. It happened, regardless. 

“You good?” Yuji asked, concerned. “Did you see something?”

In a way, Junpei did. He saw Yuji.

Junpei looked down at the floor. “Not yet,” he deflected. “Did you?”

Yuji shook his head. 

“Nope, no curses. Just you, and the boxes.” Yuji laughed at himself. If it was nerves, or anticipating a joke he hadn’t told, Junpei couldn’t tell. He didn’t try to. 

Yuji scuffed his sneaker on the floor. “Whole lot of boxes, isn’t there? 

“…Yeah,” Junpei agreed, his voice so soft and broken, his speech barely felt like words at all. 

The cement under their feet wasn’t smooth. Cracks and tracks of dirty wheels streaked the surface. Among the grime and the distortions, Junpei tried to spot a residual, just in case. As he’d expected, he couldn’t see one. 

This was a safe place. It was unsettling, closed, and most likely, they were trespassing, but it was safe. No one else was going to be here–not until the stock people came in to replenish the supplies. They’d be alone until morning, at least. 

Junpei kept his head low. Yuji did the same. Where Junpei understood the quiet, Yuji’s concentration didn’t break. To him, this was still a mission–and the curse they were looking for was nowhere to be found. 

“We should go deeper, right?” Yuji said, “I don’t see anything here. Let’s check the showroom, then?”

The way Yuji let his voice trail off, while his feet stayed firm on the floor, Junpei could hear what he was checking. While they still had time to speak, he was gauging Junpei’s comfort. As far as Yuji knew, if they turned the wrong corner, they wouldn’t have time to speak. As long as they were here, they’d have nothing but time. 

It wasn’t right, not to tell him. Junpei had to tell him. 

But, what part did he tell? 

“...Itadori?” 

Yuji turned. “Yeah?”

Their surroundings were still. Peaceful. The only threat to either of them was the growing chance Junpei would say something wrong. No matter how many ways Junpei turned the question, he didn’t know. 

“Itadori…” Junpei called again, this time softer. He held out his hand. ”Would you want to? …So we’re not separated?”

However much Junpei was hesitating, Yuji didn’t. He reached towards Junpei’s. “Sure. Good idea.” 

The way Yuji smiled was so soothing, for a second, Junpei didn’t feel as ridiculous as he knew he was. He echoed the smile, then grabbed Yuji right back. At least, Junpei tried to. He reached  him so quickly, it took a second for Junpei to realize he missed. His fingers wrapped around Yuji’s, grabbing all four of them at once and squeezing them into Junpei’s palm. 

It had to be wrong. Junpei could tell this was wrong. There wasn’t room for them to intertwine, like this—but if Junpei tried to fix it, first, he’d have to let go. If he did that, Yuji could leave. 

Yuji slowed his steps down. He raised his hand. “You good, there? Feels kinda…”

Junpei winced. “Sorry—“

“No, no, it’s okay! Might be better if we did it like this, though…” Whatever judgment there could have been, it quelled in Yuji’s smile. 

Yuji let go of Junpei’s hand, then tried again. It was a gentle enough approach that Junpei could easily have walked back. He didn’t. He kept his hands outstretched, waiting. 

Yuji offered his palm, slowly and clearly, with every finger separated, and well in Junpei’s sight. He reached out gently. “…Can I?” 

The approach was so soft, it made Junpei feel like he should squirm. “You don’t have to—“

“Yeah, but, I want to. That cool?”

From the way Junpei burned in Yuji’s sight, he didn’t feel cool at all. Yuji laughed. When Junpei held himself still, he could see clearly that the laughter wasn’t judging him. Whatever else could happen around them, Yuji was open. Sincere. 

If Junpei told him, and Yuji didn’t feel the same, he’d still be kind. He’d always been kind. 

Yuji raised his hand against Junpei’s. Their fingers intertwined, squeezing in parallel, aligned enough that Junpei could tell just how much Yuji’s hand eclipsed his own. 

“See?” Yuji asked gently. “All good.” 

“Is it? It’s pretty dark…” 

While Junpei was focused on what to say, Yuji moved closer, his fingers that much more secure. 

“How about now? That better?” 

The warehouse was dark. They stood close within that darkness–close enough that Junpei could lean into him, and feel Yuji around him.

“Itadori…” 

I like you . 

Junpei knew what to say. He didn’t find the breath to say it. 

Junpei felt Yuji’s lips near his own–a passing, fleeting flutter of movement that he didn’t try to see. The dark made sure of that. Against his own intentions, Junpei savored that flutter. The rush drew him still. It took a moment for Junpei’s mind to catch up. 

“The mission…” 

“What about it?” Yuji asked, oblivious.

Junpei just had to say it. Whatever the answer was, it would be okay, because it was Yuji. 

The silence stuck between them. The words locked in Junpei’s throat. He couldn’t find them past a squeak. “It’s not—“

“Not what?” 

Not what he thought. Not important. Not real. There were so many ways to lie to Yuji, to deflect from the truth and let it pass. Junpei couldn’t pick one–so, he picked none of them. Where Junpei could have said something, he held on. 

He didn't have to speak, now. They had all night. The doubt snaked in just enough to win. 

“What section should we check first?” Junpei asked. “Maybe bookshelves?” 

Yuji blinked. “...There’s sections?”

Just like that, whatever worries Junpei had pushed away. He smiled with relief. “Yeah, there are. They’re like furniture types. Tables. Rugs. Beds.”

Yuji tilted his head to one side. “Beds, huh? Sounds like a sleepover.” 

“With no sleeping.”

“Yeah Exactly! What kind of sleepover needs sleeping?” 

The way Yuji spoke was so light, Junpei couldn’t help but draw in like a moth lured to the same. He succumbed to the shine of him. 

Yuji’s fingers wrapped around Junpei’s hand, holding tight, but not squeezing. He stepped forward. “Let’s go! We’ve got a curse to catch!”

“Scout—“ Junpei corrected, knowing even the correction was wrong. 

Yuji bobbed his head. “Sure! That!” 

Yuji rounded the corner, leaving the warehouse for the showroom. Despite the sense he could have had, Junpei followed him. 

Whether a dorm, the ocean, or, apparently, IKEA, there wasn’t a place Yuji would lead him that Junpei wouldn’t come along. 

Chapter Text

Junpei had never been in an IKEA before. He didn’t realize this would be an issue until it was too late. 

The building felt like a warehouse and a dollhouse at the same time. 

The three-quarter rooms they walked by were pristine. Boxes like miniature film sets stacked together in clusters, each section separated by metal bins of lamps, pillows and matching trinkets. The ceiling hovered so far overhead, Junpei could barely see it. Stickers shaped like arrows stuck to the floor. Where they lead, Junpei couldn’t tell. 

Junpei walked against the arrow, moving down the opposite track of what was set. He checked the home screen on his phone. The battery was mostly charged, and his reception had full bars. If he had to get stranded somewhere, at least his phone was in good condition. If nothing else, they’d have a flashlight for a while. It was more than Junpei could say for Yuji, who didn’t seem to have his phone at all. 

Yuji’s eyes opened, his squint stopping to look at the next, fake living room in full. “Still nothing. ...Looks kinda nice, though. Almost lived in, a little.” 

“Almost.” 

Junpei reached across the coffee table. He picked up the book from the center. The glossy cover had a picture of a sunset across a mountain, and the title National Parks in English. He flipped through the pages. Though Junpei couldn’t recognize the word, he could see that the symbols were identical. The same word repeated over and over again. 

Junpei turned the page over, showing it to Yuji. “No one can read this. It might as well be ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’” 

“I can read it. It says ‘pigeon’!” Yuji squinted towards the page. His eyes lit up with a flash of understanding. “...It says ‘pigeon’ a lot!” 

If Junpei looked across the living room, to the bookshelf, most of the spines didn’t have names. The mugs left on the table were empty. The hanging plants were all fake. The television was framed by a media center, but it wasn’t plugged in. As cozy and welcome as it might have looked from the outside, any level of scrutiny made it clear that the comforts were a lie. 

Junpei turned his flashlight into the next room. The walls in the cube reached only halfway up the ceiling. The pattern on the wallpaper looked like it came from another world, holographic swirls reflecting the arc of his flashlight. The silver tables and circular chairs seemed to agree. 

They didn’t have to be doing this. Gojo only brought them here to give him and Yuji some alone time. It was, unfortunately, not the ideal place to have alone time. There were no rooms. Junpei didn’t have any overnight supplies, or his notes. Gojo hadn’t even left them a snack. All Junpei had was one directive, while Yuji had a fake one.

“So. What’s next?” Yuji asked, oblivious. 

“In the showroom? The bookshelves, I think. That, or housewares.” Junpei didn’t remember the map all that clearly. Even if he had, the way the building was arranged seemed to actively attack having a sense of direction. 

“No. Not that. The investigation. There’s a process to this, right? Scoping a curse site.” 

From the way Yuji asked him, Junpei felt a new question of his own. “Do you know how to investigate?”  

Yuji pressed his hand under his chin, thinking. “Nanamin taught me some of it! Like, how you squint to find residuals. That most curses leave tracks. We only got to tracking, though, since we found stuff right away.” 

Junpei understood some of the theory, though not from taking classes. He thought it best to keep that part to himself. The less he said about Mahito, the better. 

“I thought managers were supposed to do preliminary tracking?” 

“Mhm! But, it’s still good if we can do it, in case it’s an emergency. Like this.” 

The only emergency Junpei could sense right now was how horrible his social skills were–but Yuji spoke with such enthusiasm that Junpei settled for nodding along. Yuji might not have known the truth about their current camp-out, but Gojo had told Junpei that the site should be safe. Theoretically, any investigations they could try would come up blank. 

Junpei supposed there was some value in that. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to get some practice in. Besides, he couldn’t assume that the information Mahito had taught him was going to be correct. He could learn from Yuji, in a situation where they were in the field, but weren’t actually in danger. 

“The conditions where a curse appears are unique. There’s not a guarantee any one action would make it show up. The best source is a witness, and we don’t have those,” Junpei thought out loud. 

“Then, what about security cameras? A store has those!”

Junpei thought about it. 

“But, cameras don’t capture curses, right? Unless they’re also cursed objects, curses don’t show up on tape.” 

Yuji put his hand down. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” 

Junpei could hear the disappointment. He tried to match Yuji’s steps, so they could find a new pace. “It’s ok. I think the curtains draw them out. We probably should find a residual somewhere, if there is one.” 

Before Junpei could say any more, Yuji took his hand. Their fingers wove together warm and steady. Whatever corner they would turn from here, Junpei didn’t mention it. If he dared raise his voice, there was a risk Yuji might let go. 

The shelves changed around them, new bins and walls of clutter strewn about. Rows of white metal crates, full of sheets, plushies and pillows filled the warehouse. Entire bedspreads were pinned to the walls. Yuji stopped. “Ah. Guess it was housewares…?”

“More like bedding,” Junpei tried to correct him.

“Bedding what?” 

Yuji tilted his head, genuinely confused. The way he lingered on the question made Junpei wonder, too. “Like, blankets? Pillows. That kind of thing.” 

Junpei looked into the closest bin. A pile of stuffed sharks stared back at him, their stitched black eyes glossed over. He squinted. There was no sign of a residual, there, not that he expected there would be. 

Junpei reached into the bin. He picked up one of the sharks, like he was examining it. Yuji leaned over hia shoulder. “You find something?”

Junpei was sure Yuji meant a curse. “Yeah. It’s not a curse, though. It’s blahaj.”

“Blah hag?” 

Junpei shook his head. “Blahaj.” He raised the shark, showing Yuji the stuffed animal. 

“What’s that?” 

“A shark?” Junpei answered, suddenly unsure. “Shark plush…?” 

Yuji tilted his head. His eyes narrowed further, scrunching in. “Does it have a residual? I don’t see one.”

“No…? I just like it. They’re like an internet thing.” 

Junpei tucked the plush under his arm. Before Yuji could ask another question, and inevitably veer them towards a topic Junpei really wasn’t ready for, he tried to distract him with the mission–the fake mission, anyway. 

“If we don’t have witness testimony, then, it could be about finding the story,” Junpei considered. “Curses come to be because there’s some central fear—one that’s tied to the place or person where they showed up. If we find that, there’s a clue for how to find the curse, too.”

Yuji nodded. “That makes sense! Do we know that? The story thing.” 

From how enthusiastic Yuji was, it felt wrong for Junpei to draw a blank. He did, anyway. 

“No,” Junpei admitted. “We don’t. Gojo didn’t say.” 

Yuji squeezed Junpei’s hand a little tighter. He laughed. “Gojo-sensei’s pretty good at that, isn’t he? Not mentioning stuff.” 

“Yeah… and getting involved when he shouldn’t,” Junpei’s voice trailed off into a mumble. He kept his grip on the stuffed shark, squeezing it for comfort that he couldn’t ask Yuji to give him. If there was a reason Junpei’s stomach was in knots, it wasn’t a curse. It was Yuji. 

If Yuji noticed, he was too kind to say. “So, if we can’t do that. Then, maybe…” 

The sound of Yuji’s voice alone made Junpei’s pulse spike. He could practically feel his own heartbeat echo through Yuji’s hand. His palm slipped, his own grip turning damp. 

Junpei fought the urge to pull away. He swallowed. “...Maybe, what?” 

Yuji’s head turned over his shoulder. The brown of his eyes met Junpei’s own, straight on. “Junpei?” 

“...Yeah?” 

“If you were a curse, where would you be?” 

The question was so abrupt, Junpei could barely think before he answered. “...Here?” 

“No. I mean, like, where in the store? Where would you hide?” 

The first answer Junpei thought was ‘nowhere’. After all, Gojo had told him the store was clear. Junpei tried to think past that. If he followed his own standards of curses following stories, there had to be something–some reason why a curse would manifest in a maze of a store like this. 

A thought came to Junpei’s mind. “Huh…” 

“Huh, what?” 

“There’s a couple things that could cause negative emotions, right? Either what’s frightening, or what’s frustrating. If it’s frustration, it might be the customer service desks? People there are usually mad.” 

Yuji’s eyes snapped open. He nodded along. “Or, if it’s fear, the beds!” 

Junpei pulled back. “...Beds?” 

Whatever confusion Junpei showed, Yuji didn’t echo it. 

“You know, like little kids say! Kids say monsters hide under the bed. Curses love stuff like that! Myths, rumors. Like that.” 

It was simple, maybe overly so. In a real investigation, Yuji’s idea probably wouldn’t have any weight–but the excitement in Yuji’s voice from presenting his theory was too much to say no to. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t realistic, anyway. As far as Junpei knew, there wasn't any danger to avoid in the first place. When there was no true answer, and Junpei had to use a lie, it might as well have been a lie that made him happy. 

“Sure,” Junpei nodded. “Let’s try that. Should we do bed frames, or mattresses?” 

As soon as Junpei asked the question, it was Yuji’s turn to look confused. 

“Those are different? I thought they’d be in the same place.” 

“Maybe?” Junpei wasn’t sure. 

Junpei stayed quiet, lost in his confusion. Yuji took the gap. 

“Let’s try both,” Yuji said. “We’ve got time.” 

Whatever else might have been a lie, here, Junpei couldn’t deny that part was true. As far as Junpei understood it, they’d be stuck here until morning regardless. Either the curtain would vanish, or some hapless employee would come open the store. 

As Junpei tried to imagine either option, he realized he didn’t know that part either. 

“Do curtains come down on their own?” Junpei asked. 

Yuji shook his head. “Not really. Why?” 

Somehow, Junpei’s expression found room to fall. “…Great.”

Yuji missed the sarcasm. “It’s really useful, yeah! That way, no one can get in if they’re not supposed to!” 

“So, Gojo has to come back for us.”

Yuji smiled. “Yep!” 

So much for getting out of here by dawn. Knowing what Junpei did about Gojo, it felt fully possible that he wouldn’t come back until Junpei confessed his feelings. That, or he’d get distracted by a crepe and forget about them completely. 

Junpei willed himself not to pinch his nose. He barely managed not to sigh. Yuji pointed ahead. “Which way were the beds?” 

“I don’t know. We’d need a map, first.”

“Did you see where the maps were?”

“Where we came from. I think.”

“Ah. Right.” Yuji started to nod. He paused just as quickly. “Which way was that?” 

Junpei turned his head, checking one side, then the other. Broad, winding walls trapped them in a block. There were gaps to either side of them that presumably lead somewhere. Where that somewhere was, Junpei couldn’t tell. He squinted at the sighs. 

“I’m not sure,” Junpei admitted. With how many bins of pots, pans and plates there were, at least one of them should have looked familiar. The longer Junpei squinted, the less he could recognize anything. The most he could see was a basket of colanders, and plastic boxes full of knives. A purple light shimmered off the blade. It took a second for that to click.

“…Purple?”

Junpei stepped towards the bin. He kept looking. The more his eyes narrowed, the more he saw the knives. The dim light from the ceiling lined the outline of the blade, the pure white glint distorting. 

Yuji leaned into Junpei’s shoulder, arcing over him. “You see something?”

“Maybe…” 

“Down there?”

“I think, yeah,” Junpei leaned closer. “Or, I thought, anyway.” 

Junpei tipped the flashlight down. He looked closer. The beam of the light set the whole blade aglow. The reflection was so bright, Junpei could barely manage to watch it at all. 

Yuji bent his knees. He looked closer. “I don’t see it.” 

“It was small,” Junpei added. “Like, a speck.” Junpei tilted the flashlight, to arc the beam away. 

“Could it have been the flashlight?” Yuji asked. “Like, it bounced off dust or something?” 

“I don’t think so. It was purple.” 

“Purple? …You sure?”

Junpei nodded. It was Yuji’s turn to look confused. 

“Purple. Huh. I thought residuals were blue…” 

The flicker had been so brief, Junpei couldn’t help but doubt it.

“Maybe? I mean, it could’ve been both. Blue, purple. It’s hard to see.”

It barely made sense that Junpei saw anything, regardless of the color. The building was supposed to be empty—of curses, at least. If what Gojo told him was right, there shouldn’t have been anything, blue or otherwise, for Junpei to see. 

Yuji didn’t have the context. He stayed close, anyway. 

“I’ll dig in the bin. You watch my back? If they’re small, they might try to escape if I move them.”

It was a reasonable plan, if it weren’t for the fact that there weren’t supposed to be any of them.

A minor curse could be anywhere. The presence of a curtain could draw out a flock that usually stayed in hiding. The lure it created was one of the main purposes of a curtain, after all. It was possible that something insignificant was here. It could be bad luck, or good, depending on his perspective. Exorcising a minor curse would give them experience, and a reason to be there. Heck, it might even give Junpei an ‘out’ from having to confess to Yuji to leave. 

If Junpei could call that feeling hope, the hope didn’t last. 

A familiar kind of pressure brushed the back of Junpei’s neck. His stomach dropped, his insides turning. It wasn’t the same kind of nervousness he’d gotten from Yuji taking his hand, where the shakes felt like a flutter. It was something else completely. If those nerves were a spark, this was a wildfire. It was the moment when a character in a movie was about to walk into the basement alone, knowing full well something sinister could be waiting for them. It was the moment when, if Junpei was watching himself on a screen, he’d scream ‘stop’.

Junpei stayed silent. He turned his phone, the flashlight shifting with it. The reflection gleamed off the knives, back onto his face. In the sudden shift, Junpei barely spotted something skittering away. 

“There!” Yuji pointed. “Right there!”

By the time Yuji’s finger found a spot, the image was gone. Junpei couldn’t tell what was there. He couldn’t even see a residual. What he had left was to feel it. 

A cold tendril slid across Junpei’s ankle. It didn’t stay cold. The second it brushed him, Junpei recognized the pressure. He couldn’t name it. He knew it in his soul. 

This curse wasn’t supposed to be here. Nothing was supposed to be here. So, why?

A curse Junpei knew too well reformed along Junpei’s back. The lap of Mahito’s cursed technique licked across Junpei’s skin, threatening to tear both in and through. 

Junpei’s energy shifted inside himself, rushing to block his scars. He tried to push Mahito away. The most he managed in his flailing was to drop the phone. The beam of Junpei’s flashlight banked off the ceiling, casting shadows under his chin. 

“Run!” Junpei shouted, where he expected Yuji to be standing. In the new distortions of the light, Junpei wasn’t sure. All he could tell with any certainty was that Mahito didn’t let go. 

“Reinforcing yourself, hm? You learned,” Mahito teased.

Junpei focused on the spot that Mahito was touching. He didn’t move himself, only his cursed energy and his toxin along with it. His skin burned in a circle that matched Mahito’s hand, his poison flowing to the spot. If Mahito was anything else, it should have burned him, the same way it burned Junpei. Mahito squeezed. 

“Oh, well! Doesn’t matter. I’ll keep touching you! At some point, instinct’ll win. Besides, you’re not who I want, anyway…” 

Mahito’s hum trailed over Junpei’s shoulder. The curse rose, stretching on his feet, and his legs stretched to match. Junpei couldn’t spot where he was staring, but he could feel Mahito’s lean enough to know. He was looking for Yuji. 

Yuji looked at him, too. “Junpei!” 

“Sure is!” Mahito cackled. He was still laughing as Yuji kept shouting. 

“Let him go!” 

“Or what?” 

“I’ll kill you!” 

The bark would have been a threat, if Mahito heard it that way. He smiled through it. “Great! Then, I’ll kill first!” 

The alarm in Yuuji’s voice was an echo. Junpei heard it, before, in the hallways back at Satozakura. The same, manic laugh left Mahito, too. He raised his hand towards Junpei’s cheek, to poke over his scars. Junpei barely shifted focus in time to send his cursed energy across his eye. The energy turned to pressure. The whites of his stare turned red, the pressure of the toxin bursting a blood vessel instantly. He focused through it. Whatever pain this caused himself, it was nothing compared to what Mahito would do to him. 

“Unless…” Mahito dug his nail into Junpei’s cheek. The narrow line Junpei had to follow to block Mahito from touching him was enough to make someone scream. Junpei stopped the sound. He tried to focus–to find the strength to defend himself. The most he could manage was a thought. If he tried to take a step, or even open his eye, he’d risk his defenses. 

Mahito kept on giggling. He squeezed tighter. “How about a deal, then, Itadori? Your life, for his?” 

However much Junpei couldn’t move, he didn’t have to think to scream. “Ignore him! I’m fine!” 

Junpei couldn’t keep it up too long, but, if he didn’t move, he could take this for a while. He’d been through worse pain at these hands. At least this pain, he understood. 

Mahito slid his hand down. He gripped Junpei’s chin tighter. “Ugh! Rude! What’re they teaching you, Intro to Asshole?” 

Mahito’s nails dug into Junpei’s cheek. His palm clasped Junpei’s mouth, pressing it shut. The flow of Mahito’s cursed energy tried to pour into Junpei, his cursed technique snaking towards his soul. Junpei felt the force draw towards him. He pushed right back. Every effort he could spare honed in on that spot. He couldn’t budge from his spot to summon Moon Dregs, not without risking his focus. All he could do was to funnel his cursed energy to the same spot Mahito touched, blocking the flow of Mahito’s curse technique with his own. 

A hum passed Mahito’s lips. The pulse crawled down Junpei’s neck. 

“Clever. The cleaver one told you what to do, didn’t he? You wouldn’t be this good, on your own. It’s not natural, to you.” Mahito turned his head. He leaned closer, enough so that the cold of his breath crept through the curves in Junpei’s ear. “You’d want me in.” 

He couldn’t move. 

“Junpei!” Yuji shouted. He stepped forward, his focus locked. Even walking, he was too far away to matter. If Junpei gave him any focus past a glance, he’d risk letting Mahito in. 

It was bad luck. Or a trap. Whatever this was, it was the worst case scenario. Whatever the cause was, the end result was the same. There was a curse in this IKEA. His curse. And the only people who would help them were already in the room. 

“So, it worked. You survived. Interesting” Mahito’s laugh spiked that much more. “Since our experiment’s done, you won’t be needing that power anymore, will you? It’s not like you did anything with it. You couldn’t even kill.” 

Junpei told himself to move. His heel slid. Mahito moved just as quickly. The curse grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up and back. 

A sudden wave of pressure rose, Mahito’s cursed energy lapping him to invade. Junpei knew the feeling, and what came right after—how his body and soul could collapse the second that cursed technique came in.

Junpei sent his own cursed energy waving. With all the effort he had, he channeled his venom towards his scalp, and the spot Mahito was touching, countering the invasion with an attack of his own.

“Oh!” Mahito’s touch lightened. “That’s new. Did you learn that at your school? The grade one did something similar.” 

Junpei tried to focus more on the spot, to force Mahito away. If he had to do this much longer, he’d start to burn—but better he poison himself than let Mahito’s transfiguration in. 

In all his focus, he could barely hear Yuji screaming. 

“Let him go!”

“Why? You willing to make a deal this time?” Mahito teased. “Maybe, if you slit your throat in front of me…!” 

Junpei tried to squirm. His focus lapsed. Mahito’s touch came that much closer. 

Junpei couldn’t see his face, but he heard Yuji’s snarl. “How’m I supposed to do that?”

“You’re in a warehouse full of knives! Figure it out!”  

It was absurd to think that Mahito of all things would have mercy. He might not have even known the word. Even if he did, the phrase was too ambiguous. Mahito didn’t want to cut a deal. He wanted Itadori. For what, and why, Junpei didn’t know. All Junpei had space to understand was that he couldn’t let Mahito get closer. 

Whatever Junpei did next, it couldn’t be for himself. It had to be for Yuji. 

Mahito’s grip tightened. He pulled Junpei up by his hair. Junpei’s feet left the floor. His legs dangled, swinging in the curse’s hold. 

“Are you really that dull? The longer you take, the more it hurts him, too! Itadori—!” 

Where, before, Junpei kept his focus on defending himself, now, he sent his cursed energy flowing into his mouth. His teeth started to tingle, his gums turning numb. Junpei strained against Mahito’s grip to open his mouth. He bit down. 

“Ow!” Mahito snapped, his focus breaking. He tried to shake his arm and knock Junpei off him. Junpei didn’t let go. His jaw clenched, his bite clamping down.  

The taste was so awful, Junpei felt himself tear up. Whether it was his own toxin, or the taste of Mahito’s body, either way, the numbing sourness made Junpei try to gag. He fought against that instinct, and the strain on his own soul, to clamp down. 

The consistency of Mahito’s form seemed to change. The surface of his arm shrank. Junpei didn’t let go. Instead, he bit harder. The flow of his own toxin poured out through his throat, burning himself to corrode Mahito with him. 

Mahito’s body started to shake. Junpei clenched more. He let his toxin flow through him, accepting the damage and the burn to take Mahito with him. The taste of the bile mixed with Junpei’s blood, the bitterness turning to metal. In the blur of Junpei’s straining and shrinking, he could hear Mahito shout. What he’d said, he wasn’t sure. 

Junpei’s jaw clicked. His teeth ground together. The flesh he’d been biting vanished. The hand on his neck left, too. Without Mahito’s hold to fight off gravity, Junpei fell. 

He reached for the closest thing to catch his balance. Unfortunately, that something was a bin of knives. Junpei tipped to one side. The bin tipped with him. The plastic boxes fell across the floor. A flood of residuals stretched behind him like a shadow in reverse, something far too bright to see through. The imprint of what had once been Mahito’s shape reduced to just a streak. 

Every trace of Mahito was missing. That didn’t mean the curse was gone. It just meant Junpei didn’t know where to aim. 

Junpei pushed up from the ground. His arms were still shaking. He coughed onto the floor. The slurry of saliva and his venom sizzled on the cement, the ground under him corroding. 

“Junpei!” Yuuji shouted out. “Junpei, you’re bleeding!”

Junpei tried not to gag. Whatever he intended, he couldn’t help but to taste it. He barely brought himself to speak. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth, The fabric singed, too. 

“Not blood,” Junpei muttered. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “…Not mine, at least.”

Whatever assurance Junpei meant to give, he wasn’t sure if that statement was true. He didn’t even know if Mahito could bleed. All Junpei knew was that the liquid he’d spit up kept trickling. The splotch spread across his sleeve. In the absence of light, Junpei couldn’t see the color. All he could tell was that the splotch was dark. Yuji nodded just the same. “Got it.” 

Yuji put his hand on Junpei’s shoulder. A different kind of pulse ran through Junpei’s body, not from nerves, but numbness, as if the shock of so much toxin would make him shrink on the spot. A cackle passed through the walls. Where it was, Junpei couldn’t tell. The direction kept shifting, encircling them both under the shikigami’s protection. 

Junpei put his hands together, bracing in a summoning stance. His cursed energy was so depleted, it took all the focus he had left to will the glow outside himself. At the end of his strain, Moon Dregs bloomed inside his grip. Junpei arced his hands out, willing Moon Dregs to rise. The shikigami’s bell drifted above them like an umbrella, circling Junpei and Yuji both. Junpei turned to let his back press to Yuji’s, to create the last kind of cover they could.  

“Itadori…” Junpei wheezed, barely strong enough to speak the name. 

If it were any other moment, Yuji would have asked if Junpei was fine. When it was so obvious, he kept his sights forward. “We’ve got this, okay? You’re safe,” he said, instead. “You’ll get out.” 

It wasn’t a promise that Yuji could keep, only one that he wanted to. Junpei knew better than to press that, or to look at him and see. Instead, he kept facing forward, willing his world to go still. He couldn’t hear the cackling, now. All he felt was Yuji at his back, his shoulders steady, keeping Junpei upright when Junpei was ready to collapse. 

In the face of a death he’d barely passed by, before, the truth felt far simpler. 

“I like you,” said Junpei. 

Yuji nodded just as easily. “Yeah. Me, too. So, don’t die.” 

The walls turned still. New silence shrouded around them. Wherever Mahito was hiding, he was hiding well. Junpei centered his breath. 

“Not like that,” Junpei corrected. “Like, I love you. Yuji.”  

The name that would have felt so intimidating, left Junpei’s lips now like it was nothing at all. 

“Yeah. Like I said. Me too,” Yuji echoed, just as naturally. “I do, too.” 

If they were anywhere else, those words could have been the start of a new world. Here, it was a reason to get out. 

Junpei held his ground. 

“So, don’t die,” said Junpei, all too aware that was a promise they couldn’t make. “No sacrifice plays.” 

“You, too. Junpei. You, too.” 

Junpei nodded once. His focus stayed tight, his sight distorted through the beacon of Moon Dregs’ glow. His hands fell into fists. If they made it to tomorrow, Junpei could try to ask if he could date him. For now, they just had to not die.