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when he closes his eyes, he sees it.
shibuya is quiet, void of life and movement in equal parts, and gojo satoru has been sealed. bodies are strewn along the empty station and the rotten stench permeating the air is foul. he has to swallow down his repulsion else he vomits his insides to the floor.
before he can take another shallow breath, he sees him in the distance.
nanami stands motionless in the middle of the violence and carnage, everything around him deathly still. his blood spills to the ground from the open, blackened wounds littered all over his body. he’s become nothing but marred flesh melted together, soft as putty. half his face is burned off, leaving behind exposed bundles of muscle and sinew. it’s gruesome to look at the empty eye socket, the orifice deep and eerie in its grievous severity. it seems to rob him of his soul, and it leaves him unrecognizable, frightening in the way one might feel looking at a stranger who is entirely foreign and spine-chilling.
as he gets closer to the standing body—closer now to a corpse—nanami parts his lips as if to speak. no sound follows, and for a minute, yuji feels as if he is dreaming a distant nightmare. there is blood everywhere, and it’s difficult to tell its origin and whether or not the cursed spirits have suffered more damage than nanami. there’s no doubting the strength of a grade one sorcerer, yet it’s undeniable that nanami is now toeing the fine line between life and death. he has to hurry. he has to.
he’s not far from desperation now, as he hurries to close the distance between them, when suddenly he becomes aware of the nocuous figure hovering beside nanami, eyes turned to crescents as its satisfaction leads it to smile widely.
a palm strikes nanami’s chest, and yuji’s legs are lead. the dread that washes through him is suffocating, and his breath hitches when he calls out, “nanamin!” it was a nickname that, much to nanami’s chagrin, stuck. when nanami would let out a sigh, half-exasperated, half-fond, while responding back in that gentle but firm tone, he would feel a comfort he hadn’t known since his grandfather’s passing. in the short time he has known the grade one sorcerer, he felt something deep within him mending and healing itself.
now, as he stands alone in shibuya surrounded by corpses, as nanami turns to smile at him as he says “you’ve got it from here”, and as gore and bone explode into the air, he feels something shattering irrevocably.
he opens his eyes. he’s back at jujutsu tech, but the memories persist, nipping at his consciousness and begging for his full attention. even as he boards the plane, waving goodbye at megumi who immediately understands what yuji needs to do without needing to trade any unnecessary words, he is unable to escape the feelings of grief that have consumed him raw. the sun is still high in the sky, and yuji has eight hours to go before the plane arrives in malaysia. he can’t afford to let the nightmares win. not when he owes nanami so much.
“yuji.” choso softly squeezes his shoulder with a gentle hand. “i brought food with us. you should eat something.”
“you can eat first. i think i’m going to finish reading this book before eating.”
he offers choso a smile. it’s the least he can do, he thinks, as the man has offered him both his company and protection at no cost. he hates to admit it, but he’s in no state to be wary of his surroundings or to wonder if someones come to kill him. he’s thankful for choso, and if anyone were to ask, it’s choso’s efforts at comforting him that have kept him afloat the past few excruciatingly slow days. and although he doesn’t fully understand choso’s sudden and fatal loyalty, he knows he is loved. in that gut wrenching way, choso feels familiar. he’s similar to nanami in how he cares for others, and yuji grips the book in his hands tighter.
as i lay dying sits largely untouched in his lap. perhaps because it’s an american novel translated into japanese, he finds it hard to read. the phrasing is difficult and the prose challenging. he remembers seeing it in nanami’s bag a few times, and he remembers asking him what it was about. not that he really cared to know, but rather he just wanted an excuse to talk to the grade one sorcerer longer. it was at that time that yuji first saw past that stoic mask of mild indifference; nanami looked tired.
it's not until two hours into the plane ride, when he is a third into the book, that he sees nanami’s first notation, the handwriting clean and the ink slightly smudged. the meaning of death: is written, but nothing follows the colon—two jet black splotches of worn ink. a few chapters after that is written, dealing with loss. and i’m sorry. as yuji finishes the last few pages, the back endpaper leaves him with: to NANAMI!!!!! i asked gojo to steal ur list of tbr books >__< SORRY. ik i pretended i didnt know, its just that i wanted to get u something u would like! have a happy healthy birthday! from HAIBARA!!!!
yuji closes the book, places it back in his bag, and allows himself a fitful sleep.
—
you’ve got it from here.
“are you awake?”
it’s only the violent tremor that brutally rips through his body that anchors him to the earth, reminding him that he is as alive as nanami is dead. nanami is dead.
“yuji, the plane is landing.”
he turns to mahito and screams with a violence that is so guttural and inhumane that he doesn’t feel like himself anymore, “mahito!” the curse laughs in response, baring its teeth like a wild animal. then the curse steps forward into a puddle of nanami’s gore, and all yuji can see is death.
a hand gently nudges his cheek and he is jolted from his sleep. choso is looking at him with a worry that is scalding. “we’re here.”
yuji marvels at his surroundings as they make their way to their hotel in a comfortable silence. kuantan really is beautiful, and it takes him no time to understand why nanami would want to build a house and settle down here. time almost seems to pass by much slower, he muses, as he watches a family of three pass by, chatting and holding onto each other, their soft faces scrunched up in laughter as if mortality was a foreign concept unbeknownst to man. truly, peace is a merciful thing, yet doesn’t exist for sorcerers like himself. like nanami.
the child turns and sees yuji, sees the countless scars running along his rough skin, and her smile fades. she whips her head back around, urgently tugging on her mother’s sundress, as her father sends them a look full of disdain and poorly disguised pity.
choso’s eyebrows furrow, and yuji grabs his sleeve. “it’s okay.” it looks as if choso wants to say something in disagreement, so yuji gestures to the bakery across the street with a smile. “i’m going to go grab something for us.”
choso’s fingers twitch, but he only sighs and nods, taking the bag from yuji and leaving to go check them into the hotel. he knows choso is unable to refuse him like this, and he feels a twinge of guilt, but he doesn’t want any conflict. he understands the pain in violence and the all-consuming fear and hatred of it. he ghosts a hand over his face, along the jagged line of disfigured skin running down his brow and by the corner of his mouth. it stings when a nail accidentally presses into the wounds too deeply, but he feels a flash of relief at the pain; despite everything, he is alive.
you’ve got it from here.
the bell chimes softly when he enters the bakery, and the pleasant aroma of freshly made bread surrounds him. the display cases are fully stocked, numerous cakes and baked goods arranged along the glass shelves, but yuji’s eyes are focused on the cassecroûte bread hidden behind the array of desserts. they are stuffed with filling, and the outer shell of the bread is baked golden brown. while not surprising, they look a little different than the ones sold in japan’s bakeries and konbinis. still, yuji has no doubt these are reminiscent of the ones he used to see nanami eat after his missions. yuji would pass by the communal area to grab a snack during a sleepover at nobara or megumi’s dorm room, and he would see nanami hunched over a table, his hair matted down with sweat and dried blood. he would be holding the sandwich between his fingers, eating so silently that the only sound yuji heard was the occasional squeak of the table or chair, both old and in need of a replacement. from his angle by the doorway, he couldn’t see nanami’s face. however, he imagined it to be one of weary despair, and one night he decided to find out.
”nanamin,” he drags out the syllables and leans over his shoulder, “that looks so good! what are you eating?”
“itadori, please refrain from–” he gestures to the chin buried in his shoulder, “–doing this.” he sighs when yuji doesn't budge. “did you eat? i have another half saved if you’re hungry.”
“ah, it’s so sweet!”
“i’ll take you with me next time. you can choose what you’d like.”
“hmm,” yuji feigns thought, “definitely something with chocolate!”
nanami lets out a low huff of laughter, and yuji grins; he’s too distracted to study the expression on nanami’s face.
he bends down and picks up two sandwiches as he relishes in the memory. the plastic wrappers are stuck together, and he has to carefully peel them apart from each other to prevent the wrapper from tearing. after he pays for them and takes a slow bite, he thinks they taste a little bitter. they’re delicious, though, and he finishes both before returning to the counter to pay for another one.
the girl behind the counter grins at him and says, “thank you, come again!”
—
“are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
yuji packs the last of the books into the duffle bag. they are all ones nanami has already finished, each page worn and inked with meticulous notes and small scribbles that he can only make out if he squints. the books left unread are still in japan, sitting idly on a shelf while collecting dust, and yuji promises to go through all of them page by page, savoring each word and passing moment as he thumbs through the pages nanami never got to. responsible for managing his own suffering while alive and now nothing but a memory left to fade, nanami was never given enough time.
“i’m alright. i’m going to make a quick stop at the library before heading to the beach,” yuji replies as he zips his bag up. “im not supposed to be here, so, you know. fushiguro told me to make this trip fast.” he can’t unravel yet. not here. he doesn’t have the luxury to grieve, not when gojo satoru is still sealed in the prison realm and when that curse is still roaming the earth; he isn’t one for revenge, but he will hunt mahito down like an animal if he has to.
“well… what if something happens?” choso shifts a little, as if he is uncomfortable merely at the thought of yuji being in danger.
“i’ll be careful! this whole thing is a secret, so it’ll be alright.”
choso still looks hesitant, however he only nods slightly. “what about this book? you finished it on the plane.”
he’s holding as i lay dying, and yuji almost flinches away when he sees the cover. he pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes for a moment instead, letting the wave of nausea pass. what he needs most is sleep, but that’ll come after he’s finished with his duties here in kuantan. first, he wants to fulfill one of his own desires. then he will fulfill one of nanami’s wishes.
”malaysia?” yuji tilts his head to the side.
“oh… i don’t think i understood it that well.”
”yes, kuantan in specific.”
yuji continues, “i’m going to reread it sometime after i finish the other books. i’ll just carry it with me for now.”
”huh. i totally thought you were a countryside kind of guy, nanamin!”
yuji tucks the novel into his suitcase and stretches his arms casually, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. his behavior has been calculated the past few days. at first, he was instinctively on autopilot—no better than dead as he moved like a corpse through shibuya—but as he watched shoko gather up nanami’s remains from the cold station’s floor, nothing left but one dismembered arm and the remains of a lower body, both spurting fresh blood and giving off a foul, nauseating odor, he remembered malaysia.
nanami wouldn’t lose himself to his rage, yuji has reasoned with himself, and so, he continues to smile and act as he should; as a proper jujutsu sorcerer would. he won’t fall to his despair, not until he has cornered that stitched cursed spirit, until that stitched cursed spirit is futilely crawling on the ground, trying desperately to escape him as its lamentable fate dawns on it. then, and only then, will he allow himself to rest.
for now, he waves choso goodbye with a practiced grin honed days before in the dark, early mornings when he was alone with nothing but his thoughts and a mirror, and he feels the injured skin around his mouth stretch and ache as the muscle twitches and lifts in stiff memory.
when he arrives at a local bookstore, a striped cat meows and greets him by the door. she rubs against his legs, purring softly and happily as he bends down to pet her.
“she really likes you!”
yuji turns to the shopkeeper and smiles. “she’s really cute. what’s her name?”
“kaiya, but a lot of locals call her mochi because of how much she eats.” the shopkeeper bends over and pets her gently. “one moment you’re eating lunch and you look away, and the next moment your plate is empty. she’s a handful, but we love having her.”
yuji listens as he strokes her fur.
“are you japanese?” the shopkeeper asks after a long pause.
“yeah! how’d you know? i’m here with my brother. we’re from tokyo.”
“ah, that’s nice. it’s always good to spend time with your loved ones. i’m korean, but i lived in japan a few times so i can speak it well enough. though tokyo surprises me. you speak with a slight tōhoku dialect.”
yuji ducks his head. “oh, our parents are from sendai.”
“i lived in sendai with my grandmother when i was younger. i miss her seri nabe,” the shopkeeper sighs and stands up, “are you looking for anything in particular?”
“oh no. actually, i came to ask if you take donations here.” yuji slips the bigger bag off his shoulder and unzips it. “i have a few books here. they’re just collecting dust and giving my mom a headache at home, so my brother suggested i give them away.”
the shopkeeper peers into the bag and whistles. “that’s quite a lot of books. i’m very appreciative of this so i hate to say it, but we can only sell books in new condition. i can pass these to the local library if you’d like?” nodding, yuji lets him zip the bag up and haul it behind the counter. “though, i am curious as to why you would lug these all the way here instead of donating them back in japan. there's what, twenty books packed into that bag, and i can’t imagine that leaves a lot of room to bring other things with you on your travels.”
yuji’s smile strains at the stranger’s probing and he answers vaguely. “i have a loved one here.”
“i see. hold on, let me give you something to take back with you.” he crouches down behind the counter, and his small frame is engulfed by the shadows cast upon his back. he looks frail now, and yuji notices he can’t be any older than twenty seven. kaiya rubs her face along his thigh until he stands back up. “here. i found it. open your hands and don’t peek.” yuji humors him and does what he says. a small weight drops into his palms. the shopkeeper laughs and says, “okay, you can look now!”
it’s only once he leaves the bookstore that he chooses to open his clasped hands. a warmth that has nearly become foreign to him during his time as a sorcerer bubbles up in his chest, before it rips its way through his body, rushing through him until he is hunched over, shaking and wiping tears from his eyes.
“that’s so unexpected,” he laughs, as he pockets the matsukawa daruma doll.
—
he arrives at the shore as the sun is starting to set, hiding behind the thick overcast overtaking the sky.
it’s thanks to this that the beach is mostly empty, save for a few giggling teenagers pushing each other around in the strong waves of the sea and the few families packing up their blankets and umbrellas, ready to head home for dinner. he plants his feet into the sand, feeling the coarse grains cling to his skin, and looks out toward the huge body of water. it seems endless in its rage.
he shivers as the wind rustles his clothes and tousles his hair. goosebumps rise on his arms, but he wants to savor the moment a little longer. he wants to experience what nanami longed to have for just a minute longer, even if for a single second longer. he wants to be selfish in his desire to fulfill nanami’s wishes, to do what he couldn’t in his place.
he’s a small, insignificant figure among everything else inhabiting the shoreline. he’s just a silhouette lost to the cold, unbearable night waiting in silence to pass by, but he is alive.
he wonders if nanami can see him.
“oh, itadori, is that you?”
yuji is snapped out of his thoughts, and a distant, icy dread begins to fill his veins.
mei mei stands a few feet from him in a patterned summer dress and a thin sweater. clinging to her side is her younger brother, ui ui, who glowers at yuji and possessively tightens his grip on his sister. mei mei ignores this and offers yuji a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. it’s an action performed merely out of politeness and something else he can’t exactly pinpoint, and it makes him feel sick.
“are you here to vacation as well?” mei mei asks lightly. “the weather here is fabulous, but tonight it seems like it will storm.”
yuji swallows down the bile rising in his throat and nods. he can’t bear to offer her a verbal response. his resentment is far too great, and the urn he is carrying in his smaller bag feels heavier.
“we’ll be on our way now, but please say hello to everyone for me.”
then mei mei and ui ui are gone, and yuji is left alone with a bitter rage directed toward no one; directed toward himself. these feelings of regret, hatred, guilt, and grief surge through him, robbing him of breath as he crumples to the earth. he’s a mound of flesh curled into itself, unable to be anything else but a mass of damaged nerves and strained muscle. soon he’s pounding his fist against the sand until the skin turns raw and splits, and then his tears wet the ground as drops of rain begin to gently patter all around him.
the beach is empty, and he is truly alone now.
a muffled sob escapes him, and he sniffles into his sleeve. time seems to come to a halt, and all he can do is cry until he’s exhausted and soaked by the rain. all he can do is wait for the tremors to stop, for his violent shaking to become a soft shudder, and then, miraculously, nothing. he must remind himself that he is alive, and with that he carries both the burdens and hopes of his loved ones. he can’t falter.
“nanamin,” yuji’s voice is raw and broken, cracking as the faint sound leaves his parted lips, “i wish you were here to see this.”
though the sea rages on, a dim light pierces through the gaps of gray sky and illuminates the waves rising and falling over the horizon. he thinks of the house nanami might like to build along the shore, how he would set up the foundations himself and construct every last inch with his own hands. how he could step outside and set up a chair to read his pile of books—his collection only growing now that he has the time to visit kuantan’s libraries and bookstores, though everyone knows it’s an excuse to pass by and pet kaiya because he has a soft spot for animals—and thumbing through the pages with an idleness he couldn’t enjoy as a sorcerer. how in the bad weather he would enjoy his books with coffee and soft boiled eggs in the kitchen, his partner sitting across from him, enamored by his charm and aptitude for empathy. how nanami would make the most of his life in malaysia, in kuantan, had he been given the chance.
he takes the urn out. it’s plain and impersonal, likely the standard design given to any deceased sorcerer lucky enough to have found remains.
the direction of the wind is good, and the downcast has lightened to nothing but a few spits of rain. yuji uncaps the urn and wipes the last of the tears from his cheeks.
he stands by the ocean, the waves crashing against the bed of sand over and over, and begins to let the ashes pour out of the urn and into the passing breeze.
”itadori-kun. being a child is not a sin.”
they dance as they join and rise higher into the sky, intertwining with each other and overlapping into a moving blur.
”it’s not a sin, and when you realize that one day…” nanami casts him a look that is hard to decipher. his expression is bleak, but there is also a promise written into the small lines of his worn face.
he watches in silence as they get farther away, tangling up in the wind, and he holds the last handful of ashes between his fingertips.
nanami only speaks again when he thinks yuji has fallen asleep. “when you realize that one day, that’s when you’ve become an adult.”
he finally unfurls his hand and lets the last of the ashes languidly chase after the ones already spread out far in the distance, refusing to tear his gaze away in an attempt to commit the sight to memory. he salves his grief by watching as the flitting ashes drift away to somewhere where nanami would not be touched; where he could, ultimately, rest.
he stands there until they completely disappear from his vision, until he knows nanami is now completely gone.
it is only then that choso steps out from where he is waiting, and lays a hand on yuji’s shoulder, offering him his arms. yuji buries his face into choso’s neck and lets the warm tears run down his face once last time. he is wrapped in a warmth that he is grateful for, and the weight of the matsukawa daruma doll in his pocket anchors him to this moment.
choso holds his hand. “yuji, let’s go back.”
he nods and turns away from the ocean, tightly hugging the urn to his chest and allowing his grief to unravel.
itadori, you’ve got it from here.
the sky has cleared, and kuantan is undeniably beautiful.