ａｎｄ ｉ ｎｅｖｅｒ ｓａｗ ｙｏｕ ｃｏｍｉｎｇ

extra.

Before proceeding, please be warned that this contains spoilers for chapter 137 of Jujutsu Kaisen!

The strangest thing of all since you've reached Shibuya is the unexpected silence: no shouting, or sounds of combat. Instead, there's fear of a different kind. From behind the white curtain of the makeshift infirmary, you stare out at the Cursed Corpses patrolling the grounds. You've been forbidden from entering the fray – your powers are much too valuable to be wasted, and so, you've been shunted into the infirmary with Ieiri.

The bodies are brought in, the flow of injured never-ending – first Megumi, unconscious but unharmed, and then a dull and lifeless Nobara, her entire face crusted with blood. The fear and tension is a palpable thing, hanging over the tent and invading every single nook and cranny. It gathers in your chest too, drying out your mouth and making your heart pound painfully; Ieiri insists that you rest on one of the spare cots, dead on your feet as you are, and you sit upon the mattress, curled in upon yourself, too stunned and worried to try for sleep.

It feels like barely five minutes have passed when you hear the commotion. Yaga urgently calling for Shoko, and a cacophony of heavy boots thundering against the floor. At first, you think it's just a nightmare or even a figment of your tired mind, but you hear Ieiri's sharp intake of breath, and the low, familiar moan pouring out pain into the air isn't so easily imagined.

Your rumpled form pads out into the main room, where the sight turns your blood to ice. Ieiri's bent over Inumaki, his arm a bloodied stump. He's pale, so white that the blood running from his wound looks so violently red. He's perfectly still. At first you think he's dead, but then he blinks back into wakefulness and meets your eyes. He's calm and breathes slowly, as though he's appreciating each inhale. A horrible black ball of fear lodges itself under the roof of your mouth.

"Mustard leaf?" Inumaki asks, choked breaths distorting his words.

This stupid, stupid boy.

Tears stop up your throat, wrap around your neck as if they're trying to kill you. Sniffling, you manage to nod, more for his benefit than yours. Inumaki smiles, and it is a beautiful, broken thing. He coughs, and blood from his mouth splatters across the white tiles. You've had nightmares that you'll enter a room where your friends have been killed, their bodies lying in a pool of fresh blood, and in those nightmares you stand in the doorway forever, too frightened to run. Now you feel a similar terror.

You want to go, to be anywhere but here, but you can't seem to make your legs move. You can only watch as Inumaki coughs and struggles, and you can almost feel the warmth of his blood coating your hands.

Blood.

There's so much blood.

"If you're not going to help, then go." This is one thing your nightmares never have, someone forcing you into action. Ieiri manages to get him into a bed. Inumaki's gasping and white. The white sheets are already blooming red with his blood. "I can handle this alone."

"Bonito flakes." His pupils are wide and unreal. Inumaki's hand is cold as he grips your with surprising strength, and his nails are clawing into your hand and he shakes his head and says, "Bonito flakes."

"'Course not." You say, but he doesn't seem to hear you. His eyes flutter wildly back toward his skull, and horrible groans spill from his mouth. You don't know how to bring him back to you. "Staying right here."

Ieiri's the expert in her element, and you're useless now. Useless and terrified.

Inumaki is so small in a bloody sea of tubes and machines and white rubber gloves. Ieiri jabs a needle into his arm, and an eerie calm washes over his face when the fluid takes effect. His thrashing slows. His eyes flutter shut, and he falls into an unreachable sleep.

Suddenly, you're terrified that he's going to die.

It is, you know, the same way he feels every time he sees you injured.

In a twist of irony, your situations have now been reversed. It had been you in that hospital bed so many times before, and each time, Inumaki had been there, holding your hand with the firmest of pressures, your joined hands the fragile link keeping you anchored to this world.

You wish it was you.

You would trade places with Inumaki in a heartbeat if you could.

So many people you've loved have been wrenched from your grip. You've watched the life leave your eyes. You have mourned them and you have envied them, and you have missed them at every moment.

You will not lose Inumaki too.

"How could this happen?" You ask, staring at him, at your hands still locked together. Tears are brimming in your own eyes, but you stubbornly refuse to let them fall. Your throat is so tight from holding back cries that the words are little more than a whisper. "I should have been there. I should have –"

"Tuna?" Inumaki asks, breaking the fragile silence. You snap to attention at the sound of his voice. His eyelashes flutter and he opens his eyes. They're not the vivacious things they once were. They're eerie and distant. But there's still life in them. Inumaki's still with you. "Tuna, tuna."

You nod, sniffle, and try to disguise it as a cough. You try to muster a smile for him, but it breaks apart swiftly, trembling at the edges. "Hey."

"Mustard leaf?" Once again, this stupid, selfless boy is asking if you're fine, when he's the one in the hospital bed.

You have to pause to clear the sobs from your throat. "Okay. I'm okay."

Tears are threatening behind your eyes, but you force them away. The effort makes your bottom lip quiver. You're trying to stay strong for his sake, but Inumaki picks up easily on your distress. He pats the side of his bed, scooting over to make room for you to lie down next to him. He opens his arm, and you hesitate for only a second before curling into him, resting your head on his chest and holding onto him like he's the only thing anchoring you to this world. His arm comes around you as best as it can, holding you close.

"Don't leave me. Stay."

It's all you can say before you start to cry. Inumaki holds you through it all. His heart presses against yours, in tune, and when your tears slow, his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your tearstained cheeks.

"Okay."