Chapter Text
Yuuji had been feeling ill all morning, an awful tightness blooming in his chest and a cough tickling at the back of his throat that just wouldn’t leave him alone. In hindsight he seriously should have just sacked that morning’s mission off and stayed home.
He was sure he could just sleep this off.
But then Fushiguro had texted him.
“Gojo-sensei says to meet at the courtyard. 7:30am.”
Blunt as he always was. Then, almost as an after-thought, he had followed it up with:
“See you then.”
Yuuji choked, head slumping back onto the bed, face burrowing into his pillow to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He felt like a schoolgirl, getting flustered over a text so simple, but his shame didn’t change the fact that his heart was thumping that little bit faster in his chest after reading Fushiguro’s words.
Yuuji wanted to chuck his phone across the room. Getting a crush on your best friend, your teammate, was like the one thing you absolutely weren’t supposed to do. Especially when he knew that it was a completely futile endeavour.
Yuuji stood up too quickly, his bedroom running laps around him as he tried to regain his balance. He cursed as he stared blearily over to the clock on his bedside, he only had 15 minutes to get ready and meet the others downstairs.
With dragging feet, he stumbled into his bathroom.
Gripping his sink with white knuckles, Yuuji spared himself a glance into the mirror.
There was looking like shit, and then there was whatever in fresh hell Yuuji looked like. All colour looked like it had drained from his cheeks, leaving them sunken and pallid. Dark bags ran heavy rings under his eyes, serving only to highlight the deep-red bloodshot creeping in from the corners of his whites. Yuuji groaned, coughing once again into the crook of his elbow, he really did feel like shit.
In a last-ditch attempt to make himself look at least a little bit more alive, Yuuji cupped some cold water in his palms and splashed it against his face. The cold was sharp, forcing another cough from his chest, but doing nothing to aid his appearance. If anything, he looked worse. He now looked ill AND wet. Just what he had wanted.
Sluggishly, Yuuji got dressed, pausing every so often to hack into the palm of his hand again.
A sharp buzz from his bed momentarily bought Yuuji out of his reverie. Yuuji grabbed his phone, trying to ignore the flipflop of his heart when he saw Fushiguro’s name pop up in his notifications.
“where are you? You’re late.”
Yuuji swore under his breathe, looking again to his clock. He’d taken so long getting ready that Fushiguro was right, Yuuji was late.
Yuuji rushed to grab his jacket, not wanting to keep Fushiguro waiting, when he felt it - a sudden and deep wave of vertigo. He felt something crawling up the back of his throat, scratching at his windpipe as it climbed. He felt copper on the back of his tongue and knew he had only a matter of seconds before he was vomiting whatever this was onto his cream carpets.
The lid to his toilet slammed open, and Yuuji was nearly a second too late before he was choking desperately into the bowl. Yuuji’s hands gripped the porcelain until his fingers felt numb, dry heaves wracking his entire frame as he tried miserably to dislodge whatever was clinging to the back of his throat.
It burned.
Yuuji felt tears slip down his cheeks and snot run from his nose as he continued to retch.
Whatever was stuck in his throat wouldn’t budge from its position, tickling uncomfortably at Yuuji’s gag reflex. Nothing but bile slipped from his lips and Yuuji wanted to cry, just wanting this to be over.
Feeling the waves of nausea begin to subside slightly, Yuuji wiped his hands across his lips. With bleary eyes he looked down into the toilet.
Yuuji felt like he was going to vomit again.
The bowl was stained red, blood splattering the pristine white like a murder scene.
Yuuji apprehensively turned his gaze to the hand that he’d wiped over his mouth. With horror, he saw it also stained the same burgundy red.
Yuuji slumped onto the floor.
Maybe, this time, he couldn’t sleep this one off.
His phone buzzed incessantly in the other room, obviously the others were getting impatient waiting for him.
Slowly, Yuuji lifted himself off the bathroom floor. He flushed the toilet, resolutely avoiding looking as the blood swirled down the drain.
He really didn’t know how he was going to hide this one.
----
Yuuji made up a flimsy excuse as to why he was late, something about watching movies too late and oversleeping.
The others eyed him suspiciously, noting his pale face but saying nothing. Maybe he could pass it off as just being too tired.
“Just get in the car, idiot.” Fushiguro grumbled.
Itadori laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with a strained smile, his heart throbbing in his chest. A headache pulsed like a beating drum behind his eyelids and his throat still burned like it had been doused in acid.
It was going to be a long mission.
The three of them crammed into the back of the car, Itadori in the middle with Kugisaki and Fushiguro on either side.
The heat of Fushiguro’s thighs next to his own felt like it was burning through his trousers.
The urge to cough came creeping back the more he thought about it.
-----
The mission was supposed to be a simple one.
At their current skill level, a level 2 curse was child’s play.
Their underestimation of how many there were, was their downfall, however. The abandoned hospital was positively swarming with them.
Rain pounded at the ceiling, drowning out the garbled cries of the curses. Water seeped through the cracks of the dilapidated building, soaking through their uniforms, and chilling them to the bone.
Yuuji blinked water out of his eyes, his fingers numb and blue with the cold.
Yuuji shook his head, letting the water droplets fall from the tips of his hair like a dog. He needed to clear his mind, he needed to concentrate. Supressing the urge to cough was suffocating, breaths coming wheezing and hoarse from his throat with the strain, but he knew he couldn’t afford to make a sound.
They’d settled on a plan, Kugisaki and Fushiguro would whittle down the curses, weaken them, and then Yuji would come out and clear them all with the finishing blow, shear power being his speciality after all.
The plan, however, relied on the curses not realising that Yuji was there.
And so, Yuuji swallowed down the urge to cough like a bitter pill, crouching low to the ground behind a piece of rubble. The sounds of battle echoing out from behind him.
Affording himself a peek, Yuuji poked his head round the corner of the rubble to gauge the situation, calculate when it was his turn to jump in.
Kugisaki was dutifully holding her own. Gliding through the air with the grace of a dancer, hammer and nails cutting through curses like butter.
Yuuji felt a swell of pride at the sight of how strong she had gotten.
But, as ever, his gaze was drawn to Fushiguro. His black hair, slick with rain, was stuck to his furrowed brow, eyes dark and harsh, concentrating on the curse in front of him.
Yuuji watched as he slapped his hands together, forming the sign to materialise his divine dogs. The shadows pooled by his feet, melting and dripping, pulsating as the wolves took shape, teeth bared and lips snarling.
At his call, the dogs charged, ripping through curse after curse with ease. Fushiguro stood back, legs bowed, and arms raised, ready for the next attack.
He looked beautiful, Yuuji thought. He looked a mess, hair wet and unruly, sweat mixed with rain dripping down his forehead, long dark eyelashes fluttering to keep the water out of his eyes. He looked a mess, but he still looked beautiful. There was such obvious power emanating from him. It was in the way he held his head, profile sharp as he looked down his nose at the curses, a snarl pulling at his lips, a fire burning in his dark eyes. It was in the curves of his body, sodden black trousers clinging to his legs, doing nothing to hide the rippling muscles flexing underneath.
The curses were mounting, falling into a pulsating glob in the centre of the room. None of them fully exorcized, just weakened, piling one on top of the other. They were getting them all into one place just as planned, relying on Yuji finishing move.
Yuuji swallowed, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. He felt hot and cold all at once. The frigid water bit at his fingertips, his uniform soaked through and clinging to him like a second skin. He shouldn’t feel this hot, but he felt like he was burning up. His eyesight blurred, the familiar, hideous wave of nausea from earlier reared its ugly head again, washing over him like a tsunami.
Yuuji fell forward, one hand holding him up off the floor, the other clutching at his chest as it twisted painfully. Whatever he had failed to dislodge from his throat earlier was making its untimely reappearance now. Yuuji gagged and retched, head resting against the cool floor for some sort of relief. Luckily, a crack of thunder rolled overhead, drowning out the noise.
Yuuji thought of Fushiguro.
-----
Behind him, Fushiguro and Kugisaki locked eyes. Kugisaki swung the final curse onto the pile, nodding at Fushiguro that it was time to signal for Yuji.
“Itadori!” Fushiguro yelled.
Kugisaki and Fushiguro tensed, making sure the path was clear for Yuuji’s attack.
Nothing.
“Itadori!” Fushiguro cried again, a crack of lightning rippling through the sky, illuminating the hospital in a momentary wash of gold. Yuuji was nowhere in sight.
Kugisaki met Fushiguro’s panicked gaze. Both knowing that something was wrong.
Fushiguro continued to call Itadori’s name, running over to where he had last seen his teammate before the battle had begun.
“Fushiguro!” Kugisaki cried from behind. The curses had begun to stir again, if they weren’t quick, they’d be overwhelmed. “Hurry up!” She cried.
Fushiguro cursed under his breath, jumping over rocks and holes in the ground. Dread pooled in the bottom of the boy’s stomach as he neared Itadori’s position.
He would have had to have been a fool not to have noticed the state of his friend this morning, something was definitely up, and this moment only proved his point.
Fushiguro turned the corner, skidding to a halt by the large pile of rubble where Yuji had hidden.
Another crack of lightning hit as he watched Itadori, his best friend, his teammate, vomit blood onto the ground.
Fushiguro collapsed onto the ground next to him, hands hovering nervously over Yuuji’s shaking frame. He had no idea what to do.
Another wave of convulsions wracked Yuuji’s body, forcing the boy to fall forward. Fushiguro managed to whip his hands out and catch him just before Yuuji hit the ground completely. Yuuji’s breaths laboured, coughs bubbling up wet and ragged from his throat. He didn’t look up as Fushiguro held him, and he doubted that even if he did look up that there would be any recognition. Judging by the glaze forming over his eyes, Fushiguro didn’t think Yuuji was all too cognizant right now.
Kugisaki screamed behind him.
Fushiguro cursed as he whipped his head round. They were too late already.
The pile of curses buzzed, slowly awakening again. There were hundreds of them.
Kugisaki slashed as the ones on top fluttered awake, launching themselves in her direction.
There was only so long that she could keep this up.
“Fushiguro!” She cried again, just as one curse broke through her defence, whipping past her and gauging a pointed finger through her cheek. Blood dribbled down her cheek and over her lips, staining her clenched teeth red.
Yuuji was losing consciousness, sinking further into Fushiguro’s arms. Blood and bile dribbled from between his lip as dry heaves continued to pulse through him.
Kugisaki screamed again, the curses swarming her. Fushiguro tightened his grip on Yuuji’s arm, torn between who to help.
He felt powerless.
“Aah~ This doesn’t look good.” A voice singsonged from behind Fushiguro.
He whipped his head around, and felt relief wash over him.
Gojo stood, his usual carefree smile smeared across his face, in the open window. “Looks like my cute, little students need some help.”
“Gojo-sensei!” Kugisaki cried, relief just as evident in her tone.
Gojo spared a glance down at where Fushiguro sat on the floor, the now unconscious Yuuji lying haphazardly in his arms. The teacher’s smile faltered; his lips pulled tight in a small grimace.
It didn’t last long, however, and Fushiguro could do nothing as he watched his teacher join the fray, completing Yuuji’s job for them. The curses barely lasted a second against Gojo’s power.
Knowing they were safe in Gojo’s hands, Fushiguro looked down at his friend’s motionless face, the blood on his lips standing out so bright against the pale white of his skin.
Fushiguro swallowed thickly, he’d have time to be embarrassed that they’d needed Gojo’s help later, right now he wanted to get Yuuji to safety.
----
Fushiguro was too preoccupied with fretting over Yuuji that he had failed to notice the petals lying, blood-soaked and mangled, on the ground.
A fact that Gojo had not been so pre-occupied to miss.