Something is different about Yuta. Something small, something you don't think anyone would notice unless they're really looking at him. He handles his new katana with an unfamiliar lightness, his smiles are more freely given, and the tense set to his frame has all but vanished.
He's been that way ever since the Exchange at Kyoto.
After downing more painkillers, enough that the pain making your limbs twitch and seize has been dulled away to a mere afterthought, you feel almost human again. The long days and short nights inevitably catch up to you if you sit still for too long. Your eyes drift shut. You jerk awake. Next to you, Inumaki and Panda are warm; your core relaxes. When you sit like this, your mind always wanders.
You'd been asked to accompany your seniors to the Exchange, but you had been relegated to the side-lines as backup, and you hadn't needed to do much, considering how Yuta and Hakari had done most of the heavy lifting. It had been completely one-sided, and the event had been over in less than an hour. You suspect that most of Yuta's motivation to end the Exchange quickly had stemmed from you, and the fresh pain written all over your visage as you'd delayed using your Cursed Technique to heal yourself – but wasn't that too egoistical of you to assume as such?
"I don't think he's noticed your staring yet, but maybe if you look a little harder – "
"Gah!" Your pulse flutters wildly in your throat. You hope in vain that Gojo hasn't noticed. "Stop doing that!"
Gojo wags a reprimanding finger in your face. "I still haven't heard a thank you yet, [ NAME ]!"
You shoot him a glare you hope he feels like a slap. "For what? For meddling in my love life?"
If it was even possible, Gojo had been even more annoying in Kyoto. Megumi might have gotten a short reprieve from him, but you'd found yourself stuck with him for three days. He'd meddled before the exchange; you'd fallen asleep on the bullet train to Kyoto assuming that you were seated next to Gojo, only to wake up and find that your head was pillowed against a blushing Yuta's neck – who had been unable to look you in the eyes for a good hour. He'd meddled during the exchange by loudly reminding Yuta to look out for you. He'd meddled after the exchange by sending you and Yuta out to buy souvenirs, claiming that he was too busy to do so himself.
Gojo has the audacity to smile, as though you've just made him the King of England. "Ah, so you admit you like him!"
"I –" It's in a panic that you glance at Panda, who has honed in on this new bit of information like a dog to a juicy bone. Inumaki is staring at the three of you in a kind of fascinated horror, but at least you're assured of his silence. "No. No, no. I never said that."
"But you implied it."
"I did not."
"You did."
In the midst of sparring with Maki – to you, it looks like the most graceful dance, a shifted hand, a transfer of weight – Yuta's eyes dart over to yours, questioning. Are you okay? You rub your temples and nod at him because he's waiting expectantly for a response, though your smile is a tad strained. Seeing that Yuta's distracted, Maki slips behind him, twisting his arm hard, and forcing him to bend. He's still in her grasp, but you can see the tension in his back and his arm.
"You died! That makes it my third win!" Maki taps him with the side of her staff, releases him, and steps back. Her hair is in a tight, high ponytail that wags back and forth with her laughter. "Try again."
Yuta huffs out a breath, a smile tugging at his lips. He mops at his face with the hem of his shirt, exposing his abdomen and the droplets of sweat on his skin. Your eyes linger longer than necessary now that he isn't staring at you.
"Yuta!" Panda ping-pongs his gaze between you and Yuta. "Come here!"
You panic. "Panda, if you say anything –"
Beside you, Gojo cackles. Too late, you realise that it isn't Panda you should be wary of.
Yuta darts over, stopping to grace you with a sweet, sunny smile. Sweat wets the edges of his hair. "What is it?"
"Boobs!" Panda says brightly.
If you'd been drinking, liquid would have come out of your nose. As it is, you blink and shoot Panda a hard glance, which is promptly ignored. Gojo just about laughs himself to death, and you spitefully hope that he'll choke so you won't have to hear his voice any longer.
Yuta gapes at Panda, Gojo, and then at you. His cheeks are a bright shade of tomato red. "H-Huh?"
"Boobs!" Panda says again. "Do you like them big or small?"
Yuta opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "I – I haven't really thought about it . . ."
"Are you sure?" Gojo draws out the last word like an entire conversation.
Why are you joining in?!
Yuta licks his lips, seeming to choose his words carefully. Gojo and Panda wait for his answer with baited breaths. You can't believe this. You're actually interested in hearing what he's going to say. "Um. Well. I guess I like them normal sized?"
Normal –
Panda cheers.
You have to resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest.
"Crappy body, please fail me now." You mutter, burying your flushed face in your hands. Your face feels hot, and the rest of you cold. "What even is my life anymore?"
"Well, guess it's time I tell you why I'm here!" With a last, unprofessional snicker, Gojo claps his hands together. "Toge! You've been assigned a mission! Yuta, [ NAME ], go with him!"
From in between your fingers, you cast him an incredulous look. "I'm going along?"
"Yuta's Toge's support, and you'll be Yuta's support!" Gojo throws up peace signs. "It's a win-win situation, isn't it?"
For me, or for you?
It takes you twenty minutes to change. You spend ten minutes on the jacket of your uniform; your fingertips are so numb from the painkillers that you can't fasten the buttons closed. And as you walk the halls to the school's garage, you keep one hand on the wall to steady yourself. Everything tips and sways and spins.
Yuta, Inumaki and Mr. Ijichi are already waiting for you.
"[ NAME ]?" Yuta's hand brushes your shoulder briefly before falling away. For better or for worse, it seems as though he's become more adept at reading you – from the flutter of your eyelashes down to the minuscule twitch of your muscles.
The warmth of his fingers still lingers, seeping through your shirt. Quietly, you ask, "Are you scared?"
The small space between the both of you feels cramped with unspoken words and promises. You turn a thought over in your mind: I promise I'll keep you safe.
"No." Yuta says just as quietly, and you can tell that his thoughts are mirroring your own.
