Chapter 1: Bloodfeathers- part 1
It's a typical night, aside from the occasional thunder rumbling threateningly overhead. Tough break. It's going to be a while before it clears up by the look of the clouds rolling in from the east.
A blonde man in a heavy jacket stands under an awning at a street vendor's booth, keeping dry from the downpour as best as he can.
"Here's your order! Thank you for waiting so patiently." The girl at the takoyaki stand courteously dips her head as she passes a bagged to-go box across the counter.
"No problem. I don't have to be anywhere else. Not with the weather like this anyway." He takes his food, but before he can depart, the girl takes out her phone.
"Umm… I'm sorry, I know you must get this a lot. But can we get a picture together? My best friend will totally freak out when she sees that I got to meet you!"
A smile passes over his lips, and he removes his yellow tinted goggles with a gloved hand. "I never say no to a fan. Happy to do that for you."
She leans across the counter, stretching her camera out to catch the angle just right so they both fit.
"On the count of three-"
"Say 'wings,'" He suggests.
She squeals like a schoolgirl. "Perfect! One… two… three, wiiings!"
She flashes a peace sign as he stretches the bright red feathers of his wings behind him to get into the photo.
"Aah! Thank you so much! Here! Have some free almond cookies, on the house!" She plunks a teeny paper pouch of the sweets into his bag.
"Stay nice and dry." He waves goodbye and pulls his collar up to his chin against the cold.
There are a few places Keigo Takami can think of to seek a bit of respite from this storm. One of his favorite bars is near here, and it's been a while since he popped in to flirt with his favorite bartender. It's rare that he's sent to patrol this side of the city, so he's sure to catch an earful for being absent for so long. Nothing he won't be able to charm his way out of though. There's hardly an issue that's more than he can handle, hence being sent for his patrol solo instead of with a partner.
"What a tragically boring evening," He muses, shaking water droplets from the wings exposed through his coat. "I don't know why I even bothered leaving the hotel. Should've ordered delivery."
An enormous bolt of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by an explosion of thunder.
He grimaces. Yikes.
As a flier, he has good reason to respectfully stay grounded. Though trudging through the slop of the streets is hardly progressive when he has to dodge the pathway of pedestrians.
Someone jostles past his left wing rudely with an elbow. A tender scrape considering the cold damp conditions makes them even more sensitive. He grits his teeth tolerantly, remembering that most people aren't used to making extra space for someone with wings on the sidewalk. He rounds the next corner, taking a moment of solace out of the bustling crowd in an alleyway. He breathes, accepting the light smattering of raindrops in exchange for the personal space.
There's no sense in letting his dinner get cold. The smell of golden fried batter wafts from the bag up to his nose temptingly. He can't resist opening the container to pop one one of the takoyaki into his mouth. Readjusting his goggles in an attempt to keep his face somewhat dry, he stares up at the pitch black sky as he chews. Just as he is reaching for a second one, another burst of lightning forces his attention skyward. For the split second that the sky is illuminated, a stark black outline hurtles across, casting a shadow over Keigo's face.
The takoyaki tumble to the ground, dropped in surprise. "What was that?!" He demands out loud.
He bolts from the alley, taking the same direction as whatever he saw shooting by overhead. Damn this storm! He can't fly to catch up with it. This thing is definitely airborne. Why was it flying in a thunderstorm?
There's a wooden fence up ahead. Shit! He'll have to try making it over if he wants to track whatever this thing is. He stretches his wings, shaking the rain away as best as he can before taking a leap from a stack of wooden pallets left beside a near dumpster. It's not his most graceful moment, scraping the seat of his pants over the top. A few feathers are lost from how hard he has to flap to stay elevated. The rain just makes them so damn heavy!
A commotion from the roof of the building to his left announces that his target had finally crash landed. Thankfully this building looks like it has a fire escape leading up. He starts climbing. Although halfway up the flights of stairs, he suddenly realizes he's standing on a gigantic lighting rod. Shit! Don't panic. Just move as quickly as possible to get to the top… Where the lightning can hit you directly out in the open…
Fucking hell...
He hoists himself over the edge of the roof, hugging the cement "ground" for safety. Squinting through the sheets of rain hitting his lenses, he looks for anything out of the ordinary.
What he finds takes his breath away.
"Hello there!" He calls.
Glowing, red eyes stare silently back at him. A low growl emits from the figure, and inky black wings flare to their full expanse on either side of it.
"It's terrible flying weather this time of year with the monsoon season," Keigo continues. "We need to get off the roof! Like, ten minutes ago. It's dangerous!" He gestures with a gloved hand, beckoning.
Come on! He tries not to flinch as another eruption of thunder shakes him to his core. Grab onto me, and we'll get to safety.
His outstretched hand is drenched and trembling as it reaches, waiting for you to take it.
Because who else would have been flying in this storm but you?
Battered by the harsh winds, and naive to the hazard of wet feathers, you had rapidly lost altitude and plummeted into the inner city. You were barely able to flare your new wings at the last minute to soften your fall, but you still landed violently into solid concrete. It's obvious that this guy is shaken up too, both by the crackling electrical display overhead and you. He has no idea who or what you are.
Yet, his glove is still waiting for your hand.
"Take it," Ryomen urges. "We don't know this place."
You grab onto the stranger, letting him guide you across the roof. Scraping your belly the same way he's doing to stay flat. A sudden sweeping breeze catches the bend of your wings, blowing them open painfully to their full extension.
"Aagh!" The force tears at your shoulder muscles painfully. Your bare feet scrape as they scramble to find a hold of any kind. He clutches at your wrist with both hands, securing you, but just barely.
"Keep your wings closed!" The blonde stranger instructs. "You have to close them or the wind will take you over the edge! Or they'll snap!"
You try to force them shut, but the wind is an invisible wall. "I can't! They won't close!" You cry helplessly.
"Try folding them up instead of flapping in!" He suggests, seeing you struggle.
"What does that mean?!" You demand. Up? Don't wings just open and close?
The stranger pulls you toward him, using only the toes of his boots to anchor himself to the ledge of the roof. He ducks his head down, showing you his own wings. The top crests are pointed together to spear away the windforce.
"This! Do this!" He shouts.
"DUDE, YOU HAVE FUCKING WINGS!" You scream, stupid with shock.
Trying not to lose his patience, Keigo forces a laugh that sounds more crazy than flippant. "I sure do! And if the wind doesn't rip yours off, I'll teach you how to use them!"
Mimicking his form, you tuck your wings together at the top. Immediately the wind relents, and you slam onto the rooftop once more. It knocks your lungs empty, but your rescuer successfully hauls your body to his side safely. He assists you over the ledge before descending to the fire escape platform himself.
"Hell of a night isn't it?" He guffaws. "My name's Keigo! Friends call me Hawks. Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah… Thanks," you shakily wrap your arms around yourself. You haven't had the opportunity to procure new clothes ever since...
"Oh, fuck!" Noticing you're only wearing a very tattered pair of pants, your hero shucks off his coat at once. He wraps it around your shoulders snugly. It's so warm from his own body heat that you sigh in relief.
"Thank you..." You breathe.
"Uh, no p-problem! You can keep that. I have another. It's got, um, openings in the back. For y-your… wings." He stumbles over the unfamiliar combination of words. He's never met anyone else like him.
Looking down, he notices that you're shoe-less as well. In the streetlight of the nearby intersection, he can barely make out what looks like the remnants of what appears to be blood stains on your skin.
His thick blonde eyebrows knit together in concern. "Look… I don't want to assume anything, but are you in some kind of trouble?"
Keigo's hotel room is warm, and cozy. He'd kept the heater running when he left to pick up dinner, anticipating that the lousy weather would demand it upon his return. A great decision on his part.
"Maid service has already come by today so there's clean towels for you to shower. Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to look for… Uh, something you can wear once you're done. Alright?"
Your eyes scan the room, taking in the common features every hotel offers: bed, chair, phone, mini fridge, coffee maker, microwave, television. Human comforts.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Keigo asks quietly. You haven't said much since agreeing to come along with him to wait out the tempest.
You nod wordlessly, staring down at the carpeting between your toes.
"Well, the bathroom is all yours. Take as long as you like to clean up. Are you hungry at all?"
You shake your head. No.
"Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I'll be right back. Uh, stay here? I only have the one room key."
He waits for your response but you give him none, closing the bathroom door behind you. Once alone, you turn on the stream of the showerhead and let your eyes meet your reflection.
Ryomen Sukuna's eyes stare back dolefully from beneath yours.
"I guess he can't see you," You mumble, running a hand absently over the black markings permanently branded on your face. You turn on the faucet to wash your face first.
"No. He has no psychic abilities it seems." Your curse confirms.
"How lucky for him." You spit into the sink, turning your back to the mirror. You shrug off Keigo's heavy coat, tossing the tattered remains of your pants into the wastebin, and step into the warm steam of the shower.
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.
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When he returns to his hotel room, shopping bag in hand, Keigo hears the sound of your voice behind the bathroom door. You're crying. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but he catches bits and pieces of what you're saying between sobs.
"...I hate you… Stupid fucking… Should have never..."
His expression falls. He has no idea what to make of you, but it's clear something traumatic must have happened. He knocks lightly at the door.
"Hey, I'm back. Got you something to wear. I'm just gonna… Hang it on the doorknob and go sit over by the window. Take as long as you need."
He leaves the bag on the handle and makes his way to the other side of the room, giving you plenty of space while you're getting dressed. There's a loud ripping sound followed by the hiss of you swearing as the shower curtain catches on your wings. Hawk's hears the clatter of empty mini shampoo bottles hitting the floor, followed by you swearing.
"Everything okay in there?" He calls.
"Yup! I'm great thanks," You reply as your hand reaches out and snatches the bag hanging from the doorknob.
Keeping his eyes trained outside, he pretends not to hear the shower curtain rod clattering into the tub. "Sorry about the shirt. It's hard to find something for our body types. We can get you some shoes tomorrow. I didn't know what size you would wear."
The bathroom door opens and you step out, fumbling with the ties of the black halter top he bought for you. There's a smattering of rhinestones in the center spelling out "Tokyo is for Lovers." Luckily he found some sweatpants that were graciously plain, although the matching ones for the top would have been cheaper together as a set.
"Thanks," You mutter, looking around the empty room some more, unsure of what else to say to this stranger who saved you.
Thoughtfully, he strokes the light beard on his chin. "So… You got a name?"
Begrudgingly you tell him your name, not delving into any other details of who you are.
"Okay, I like that. It's nice to meet you. You can just call me Hawks, alright?" He smiles again. "You feeling up to any dinner yet?"
You shake your head.
"Not a very talkative one, are ya? That's fine. You've… been through something pretty harsh recently. Am I right?"
Again, you say nothing. Your rescuer sighs, stretching his wings open. You can't help admiring the way each crimson feather reflects a gold shine in the lamp light. "Look, I want to help you as best as I can, but I'm grasping here. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself? Maybe explain what you were doing trying to fly through this typhoon?"
He's concerned about you, that's all. It doesn't seem like he's associated with Jujutsu Tech. Just a nice guy who saw you needed help, nothing more.
You sit on the edge of the bed, tucking your feet underneath yourself. How much should you tell him? The weight of your conscience is pressing down on you as you flip through the recollections of your recent past. Each time you open your mouth to begin, your voice breaks, refusing to form the words needed. You sniffle hard, wiping away stinging tears with the back of your hand. They build regardless, spilling over your cheeks.
"Are you lost?" Hawks suggests, trying to fill in the blanks.
You pull your knees up to your chin, squeezing your eyes shut. "I have nowhere to go." You confess.
He smiles softly, kneeling on the floor in front of you to meet your gaze. "That's alright. Tokyo is a big place. Lots of people come here when they have nowhere else to go."
His kind words and gentle voice are soothing. He didn't have to bring you back to his hotel. The clothes he bought you couldn't have been cheap either. Hawks is putting his blind faith in you, the bloody guest he found on a rooftop.
"I… like your wings. And your tattoos." He offers, trying to change the subject.
Tucking your nose into your forearm, your crossed arms slowly reach to cover your shoulders with both hands, hiding the jet black of Sukuna's markings with your fingers.
Immediately he regrets bringing attention to them. You look uncomfortable now.
"So, I don't want to make it sound like we should get police involved here… But do we have any reason to?"
Your breathing hitches, and your feathers ruffle in alarm. Panic grips your stilled heart. Although it doesn't beat, the tight squeeze of dread is very real. You shouldn't have told him your name.
"No. No cops," You insist.
Hawks can't ignore what was clearly a fear response. "Who are you running from?" He asks the burning question eating away at him.
You bury your face in your arms, digging long nails into your shoulders.
"...Everyone."
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Morning comes with mercifully clear skies. Sunlight breaking through the slats of the blinds hits your face. You must've passed out from exhaustion at some point last night. Oh, that's right. You're not alone.
Sitting up in bed, you spot a tousled blonde mop of hair snoring soundly, barely visible under the spare hotel blanket. Hawks. Or Keigo as he'd introduced himself to you last night. Shit, you told him who you are too. Was that a bad idea? You should probably keep your identity to yourself from now on. To the Jujutsu sorcerers, you're nothing more than a mere vessel of Sukuna now. A special grade curse, and a threat to anyone around you.
Hawk's kazoo snoring cuts through your dark thoughts. He turns over, muttering in thick slumbering babble. He slurs his words. "Yer not ...tha bossa mee. Quit yellin..."
That gets a smirk from you. This guy seems pretty harmless. And he went out of his way to make you comfortable last night while he slept upright in a chair. Peering closer, you bend down to get a better look at him. He seems to be maybe in his mid twenties. A scruffy beard and bushy thick eyebrows match his same mess of blonde hair. Handsome.
He stirs again. You swallow nervously, realizing he may not react well to being woken up with you leering at him. However when his eyes peek open and recognize you, his yawn curls at the edges in a dopey smile. "What's the word, hummingbird? You sleep okay?"
The endearment makes you blush. You look away, nodding mutely. "Yup. Thanks. Sorry about... crashing like that last night. You didn't have to share your bed with me."
Hawks stretches both arms up into the air, flexing his wings out the same way as he stands. "No trouble at all. Though technically I didn't share the bed, I gave it to you."
You blush, keeping your eyes trained on the radio alarm clock, watching the time roll over to 8:53.
"That was some storm last night, huh?" He comments, raising the blinds to check out the city below. "Blue skies today though. We can expect to get some good flying in. What do you say?"
Your fists clench at your sides. "No. Thank you, for all of your hospitality. But I've inconvenienced you far enough. I should go."
He laughs as if you've made a funny joke. "What? Dressed like that? I grabbed the first thing I laid my eyes on last night because it was an emergency. We need to get you some real clothes. And shoes too." He adds thoughtfully.
You can't argue with his logic, but grit your teeth stubbornly.
"Go ahead." Ryomen encourages gently.
I don't need your permission! Hush!
"Fine, but after that I'm gone." You accept Keigo's invitation.
He claps his hands together with excitement. "Excellent! I know an incredible shop around here. Oh, we're going to have you looking good!"
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Hawks is a popular guy. Walking together, you can't make it two city blocks without someone shouting their salutations to him. Unfortunately, it's drawing entirely too much attention to you as well.
"Good morning, Hawks! Erm… Who's your new friend?" A man at a fruit cart inquires, tipping his hat as he stacks his oranges.
"A family friend! Don't you see the striking resemblance?"
An old lady sweeping the welcome mat of her flower shop pauses to eyeball the two of you. She gawks at your "tattoos." "My! What an… interesting couple you make!"
"Not nearly as interesting as your yellow peonies, miss! They're lovely. Have a pleasant day." Hawks bows his head respectfully as you pass by, knowing full well that "interesting" is not the compliment some people think it is, especially when applying it to how a person looks.
You're cringing with every stranger who casts a glance your way, feeling their eyes on your skin. Are they judging your bare feet? Or maybe the ridiculous glittery top that Hawks bought for you? There's also your curse markings from Sukuna, not to mention the monstrous black wings sprouting from your back and nearly dragging the cement behind you as you walk. Yeah, there probably weren't many people reading your shirt.
"Are we almost there?" You ask punitively. Being out in public like this is making you feel like a fish out of water. Or whatever the bird equivalent of that is.
"Almost. I kinda forget exactly where it is. They must like to move things around while I'm gone. Ahh, here we are! You won't find better customer service anywhere else in Tokyo. At least, not if you have feathers."
A bright yellow sign in elegant script displays the store name proudly: La Voliere.
You arch an eyebrow, "'The… Aviary?' Is this supposed to be a joke?"
Keigo chuckles as he holds the door open for you, inviting you to step inside. "Ah, donc tu parles Francais? That's going to come in handy. You know, I thought the same thing when I first read the sign. When the owner saw me walk in to check the place out, he went berserk for my wings. He's got a penchant for birds, you could say."
"Who is he? The Penguin?" You ask with absolute seriousness.
This time, Hawks has to cover his mouth to stifle his guffaw. Before he can reply, an excited man's voice calls from the back of the store. "Monsieur le Faucon! Mon cher ami! Comme c'est beau de te voir!"
"Hello, Raphael! How have you been? I hope you're managing to hold the place together without my business these past few months?" Hawks greets the man with a firm handshake.
He's an older gentleman in a smartly modernized black and white tuxedo, grinning from ear to ear. You can't ignore that his nose is a bit on the long side as well. Oh, god… He looks like an actual penguin!
Reading your mind, Hawks raises his bushy brows at you in amusement, eyes nearly twitching as he fights to keep his face straight. You're not having much better luck than he is. A snort of laughter escapes, causing Raphael to notice you for the first time. His mouth drops open, one of his hands covering his mouth in astonishment. Remembering what Hawks said about this guy liking wings, you meekly attempt to open yours to make a good first impression. "Uh, Hello?"
He's not convinced.
"Un demon! Mon Dieu, suave moi, tu as amené le Diable avec toi!" He crosses himself with his fingertips for protection.
Ryomen harumphs with indignance from your cheek. "Damn. It seems he's got a touch of psychic intuition."
You wilt immediately So much for that idea. Hawks, who knows absolutely no French outside of his "donc tu parles Francais" one liner that came in handy enough for him to not have to learn more, is none the wiser to Raphael's accusations. He assumes Raphael's conniption is regarding your outfit.
"I know. I did the best I could, but it was late last night, it was an emergency, and the closest boutique to my hotel is Emmilio's." He explains, shrugging his wings casually.
Right away Raphael's face turns red, his brows furrowing with a burst of sudden rage. "Emmilio!" He spits into the palm of his hand and clenches it tightly in a fist. There's clearly some tension here. He looks as if he's ready to fight a bear.
"So you can help right? Fix up my friend and make them look nice?" Hawks asks politely, gesturing to you.
The penguin man cocks his head back at you, appraising you up and down then walking a full circle around you. He clucks his tongue and looks back to Keigo.
"Oui. I fix."
Raphael may have been a God-fearing man, but apparently to some humans, their hatred for one another runs much deeper. He spends nearly an hour taking down your dimensions alone, writing notes in a booklet expertly strapped to his wrist. When he's finished, Raphael vanishes into the back room.
You take the opportunity to look around the rest of the shop, investigating the odd fashion choices Raphael stocks. There were tons of feathers. Not only on the fringes of clothing, but as the main choice of decor as well. They were arranged like exotic flowers in decorative vases at the register, and even framed in labeled diagrams with the genus and species of each source written neatly beside each one. One in particular grabs your eye. Its brilliant red color and impressive size were unmistakable. Getting a closer look, you read the name anyway: Keigo 'Hawks' Takami.
"That's right. That's one of my primaries. He took it as payment," he explains, joining you to admire his own plumage.
"How thrifty of you." You comment.
At last the penguinesque man returns carrying a shoebox.
"Plus de pieds de singe." He chuckles as he unwraps a gorgeous pair of black boots.
You stare directly into his eyes before replying, your pupils illuminate from within. "Merci. Maintenant mets-les sur mes pieds avant que je te les enfonce dans le cul." Your lips curl into a snarling grin.
His look of absolute horror makes you feel much better.
.
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You grumble with annoyance when the two of you leave, working in the stiff soles of your new boots as you trudge behind Hawks all the way back to the hotel. The flighty jerk conveniently failed to tell you that Raphael needed several days to have your new clothes tailor made.
"Did you seriously think he'd have something off the rack and ready to go for a winged customer without notice?" Hawks giggles
"You tricked me. I told you I'm not hanging around any longer than I need to." You hiss with annoyance
He spins around, stretching his arms behind his head as he continues walking backwards. "Oh, I hear you loud and clear, songbird. But you aren't ready to go yet. We've got to enroll you in some flying lessons."
You cross your arms over your chest stonily, not especially appreciating the pet name. "I fly fine, thank you."
He chortles good and hard at that. "Oh, you're going to make me bust a gut! First off, you flew when it was raining, and during a lightshow like that? That was beyond reckless! You could have been fried crispy. And you don't seem to have a grasp on how to use your wings as part of your body. If I may be so bold, how long have you had them?"
His expression turns thoughtful, studying your eyes carefully.
"...Not… long," is all you can manage to respond. You definitely don't feel like explaining your transgression to this bird-man. Your guilt over the murder of Stolas still sits heavily.
"So? Will you let me give you some pointers? We've got a couple of days until your clothes are ready. That should be plenty of time." He points out.
You don't have much of a choice. You aren't sure about staying with a man you've just met. Although, it has been nice being treated so… normally. Keigo has no idea what you've been through. In his eyes you're a mere fledgling, fallen from their nest.
"Fine. Two days, then I'm gone."
.
.
.
The breeze ruffling your feathers brings the smell of the sea in with it. It's cool and refreshing on your face.
"Try not to flap so much, or you'll get tired out faster. Find a thermal and ride it." Hawks instructs.
He'd taught you that a thermal is a pillar of warmer air that rises up, giving better lift and altitude for flying. More altitude means more distance covered. He'd lent you his extra coat for your training as well as an extra pair of goggles he carried with him when he traveled. He's a well prepared guy it turns out
"Are we going anywhere in particular?" You ask.
"Not really. Just enjoy the airspace for now. It's relaxing to have room to, you know, spread your wings? There's some pretty nice places I could show you if you wanted to check them out though."
"Not necessary. We'll stick to your lesson plan." You don't need to fraternize any more than necessary with him. You're going to be leaving in two days anyway. No sense in getting attached.
You're still on the fence about spending time with him publicly like this. You should be lying low, hiding out from anyone who may look up and recognize you. Surely you must be standing out like a sore thumb, two winged humans flying together.
One winged human, You remind yourself bitterly. One human and one 'diable.'
"You're doing great! Do you want to try a dive now?" Hawks circles around you in a playful swoop. He's never had a flying partner before.
"Like, purposefully? No, thanks." You had your fill of diving when the rain soaked through your feathers last night.
"Oh, come on! Don't be such a chicken!" He teases, chuckling at his own dorky sense of humor. "It's a useful thing to know if you need to get to the ground in a pinch. Plus, it's incredibly fuuuun." He draws out the word, lilting his voice into a singsong.
"Ugh, fine." He knows how to wear on your nerves with his obnoxious cheerfulness.
He stretches out his hands to you. "We can do it together! I've always wanted to try a double dive. Though we have to be facing each other so our wings don't scrape."
You stare at his gloves warily, not wanting to accept them at first. But the kind gleam in his eyes, and that dopey way he tilts his head like a golden retriever wanting to play is too endearing to resist. You grasp his hands firmly. They're warm even through his gloves. The two of you hover in place, flapping to maintain the same altitude.
"Okay, remember how you tucked your wings to avoid the wind on the rooftop? We're going to do that again. We need to pick a target… There! On the boardwalk strip. See that neon red theater? Let's dive and swoop down to it. Ready?"
You take a deep breath, preparing to close your wings for the drop. You can already feel your stomach in your throat.
"Hey," He runs his thumbs over the backs of your fingers ever so slightly, sensing your anxiety. "Don't worry. I've got you."
You nod curtly, grimacing a tight and nervous smile. He begins your countdown. "3… 2… 1– Drop!"
Your wings fold in, mimicking his. He flips you over with him, inverting your trajectory.
Whatever sensation you were expecting from a freefall, this isn't it. It's much more terrifying.
"AAAAHHHH!"
"Don't scream! You'll swallow a bug!"
You snap your mouth shut, but it doesn't stop you from shrieking through your teeth like a teakettle as the crossroads of the city down below rapidly become more and more detailed. The people buzzing through sidewalks file together like ants. Cars are quickly growing from the size of tic-tacs to dinner plates. The theater, which was nothing more than a glowing red dot before, is coming up at you like an expanding bullseye. And you're the fletched arrow speeding to its center.
"Get ready! When it's the size of a melon, flare your wings!" Hawks shouts.
"WHAT KIND OF MELON? HONEYDEW? WINTER MELON? CANTALOUPE?"
"HAHAHA! WATERMELON!" He's giddy from your terror.
"AAHH!-GuhHugg! OH, FUCK THAT WAS A BUG!" You gag, trying to cough it back up.
"No time to think about that! FLARE NOW!" He directs. You feel the press of his body against yours as he pulls you in close. Still mirroring his movements, you bring your knees up against his. As you complete the flip, the bottoms of your shoes kick off one another.
Your wings expand in a flawless swoop, carrying you in an easy glide that rockets you across the skyline above the tallest buildings. The thermals from the streets below greet you, carrying you back up gradually. Without needing to adjust even a single feather, you arc perfectly, reaching the climax of your momentum safely in the air.
With only the endless open sky above you, and the petty human world underneath, you find yourself laughing for the first time in days.
Hawks swoops back into view, joining your side. "Well? What's the verdict? What did you–"
"That was INCREDIBLE!" You gush, not even letting him finish. "We can do that again right? Or is it a lot more work for you since your wings are smaller?"
"Haha! If you're roasting me, you must be feeling better. Sure, let's do it again. And lay off my wingspan, will ya? Size isn't everything." He gripes without any actual complaint in his voice.
It's no wonder why he's always in a good mood if he gets to do this whenever he likes.
You end up spending over an hour in the air with Hawks. It had been more fun than you thought it would be to learn from him. Granted you may not have earned these wings by honorable means or been born with them like Hawks, but they're still yours now aren't they?
On your way back to the hotel, you catch Hawks staring from the corner of your eye as he keeps in stride next to you. "What are you looking at?"
His feathers ruffle, but you're still unsure what each little wing movement means. Was he embarrassed? Or cold?
He brushes his hair from his eyes, "Oh… Just that smile you haven't stopped smiling since your first dive. I told you it was fun, huh?" He grins wider, showing off his flawless teeth.
"Heh, yeah. Okay, I'll give you that. You were right; flying is pretty thrilling." You agree.
He gives your shoulder a soft pat. "I'm glad you think so. It was breaking my heart seeing you looking so miserable up there. The sky is freedom. Don't ever forget that."
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.
The gentle pattering sound of the shower from Itadori's bathroom rouses him from his fitful sleep. He didn't actually gain any rest from lying in bed all night, but Fushiguro needed him. The boy cried all night, nearly inconsolable. Yuji's strong arms around him so securely had been the only comfort to grant him a sliver of peace. Itadori rolls over, already searching out the side of the bed where his friend had been. It's still slightly warm. He hasn't been awake for very long.
Exhaling heavily, he reaches beneath his pillow, groping for the cool, smoothness of the kimono he found in your room. The fine silk slips between his fingers like water. Yuji traces over the patterns delicately with quivering fingertips. You must have looked so beautiful in this. He knows you most likely haven't worn it in a while, but he can't resist the urge to bury his nose into it, breathing deeply.
Maybe it's all in his head, but the barest memory of your scent greets him. This is enough for now to imagine that you're still here. Your name falters across his tongue. The physical result of his sleep cycle is already saluting him. He growls in annoyance at this ill-suited inconvenience.
"Stop it… Go away!" He hisses, reaching into his pants to push his erection between his thighs. It throbs resiliently in protest, demanding his attention.
He clenches his eyes tightly shut, whimpering as his resolve begins to disintegrate. It's been a long time since he's been able to alleviate himself without an audience in his head to ruin the experience. The silence without Sukuna's presence is almost unnerving, as if any second his voice may somehow return, mocking him for thinking he'd attained his freedom. But no voice comes to berate him, even as he reaches down to grip himself harder, burying his face into your kimono. He moans, biting back his volume when he thinks of you. Your voice and the sweet sounds you'd elicited as he made love to you are so fresh in his memory. If he blocks out the rest of the world around him, he swears he can almost feel you again.
The mattress dips with tension. He stops, laying motionless, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Megumi had finished his shower, but left the water running. Yuji didn't hear the bathroom door creak open.
"Yuji…"
He smothers his face into the pillow, covering the kimono shamefully. It makes him feel like an ass to be thinking of you this way, but dammit he misses you so much already, body and soul.
"I'm sorry," He croaks. "I-I shouldn't be.."
Fushiguro's hand slips around Yuji's girth, humming into the crook of his neck as his fingers play over his burning skin.
"I've got you…" He murmurs reassuringly. Yuji sobs again, closing his hand around Megumi's.
"You don't have to-"
"I need to. Please." He insists, pulling at Itadori's hip until he rolls over to face him. Megumi's tone is urgent, declaring his intention clearly.
"Yuji," He bleats again into his friend's ear, knowing it's one of his most sensitive spots. "I need you…"
Itadori's hands close around Megumi's slim hips, picking him up and settling him on top. He can never find it within himself to refuse Fushiguro's advances, no matter how odd the timing may be. He was always neediest when he felt hopeless, clinging to the sweet distraction of carnal comfort. It isn't always easy for Itadori to understand why he never comes to him at any other time, but nonetheless what more can he do when his friend needs him this way?
"Don't you want… protection?" Yuji asks pointedly. But Fushiguro is already vanishing beneath the sheet. "He's gone. We don't need the sutras anymore."
Itadori pauses. "I'd feel better if we still used one."
The brunette's head reappears from under the sheet. "...Really? Why?"
He swallows hard before answering, running his fingers through Fushiguro's dark hair. "Just… not used to it yet. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It's alright," Megumi reaches for his discarded pants on the floor. He still has a sutra in his pocket, always kept on him for emergencies.
When he was possessed, Itadori often lost control over himself during their intimate times together. Even if it was only for a few seconds, it was enough to terrorize or even hurtMegumi. Sukuna delighted in slamming his vessel's hips into the smaller boy to make him scream in the midst of pleasure. A thrust too deep that tore him, or a slap across his face when he leaned in for a kiss, the ceaseless bites from both of the curse's mouths that sought to devour every inch of him in disgusting ways… He never knew when it was coming. That's why he made the sutras in the first place, to contain the special grade curse for their own peace, even if it was just temporary. Each one lasted a little over five minutes. Scarcely enough for anything momentous to occur.
Sitting back up, he delicately places the slip of paper around Yuji's bicep, sealing it into place with his cursed energy.
"You don't think I'm being paranoid, do you?" He asks, rubbing the tender spot where Megumi's energy still sparked on his skin.
"Maybe a little, but I understand." His hands seek out Yuji's cock once more. He looks into his friend's eyes, biting his lip as he strokes up and down his length slowly. "Do you… understand me? The way I am?"
Yuji leans his forehead against Megumi's, moaning softly and nodding in response. "Yeah… I'm here for you. Whatever it is that you need, you've got me."
There's a kiss, resounding with reassurance and small sounds of need. Yuji sits up, wrapping pale, slender legs around his waist. He thrusts into eager palms, his own fingertips digging into Megumi's hips to spark movement. The brunette whines quietly, following the pace being set for him. His teeth find Yuji's lower lip, softly nipping then sweeping his tongue over to soothe it. He's trying to goad him into opening up. As always, bashful Yuji needs more convincing.
Megumi deepens the kiss with his free hand slipping into the tousled pink locks. His fingers close in a gentle fist, pulling Yuji's hair until his mouth falls open in an appreciative moan. Megumi follows it with his tongue, relishing in the way the vibrations blur his thoughts. His grip tightens around Yuji's cock, mining more of the sweet sounds that drive the rest of the world away. More, he has to have more…
Chase away this nightmare.
Already understanding his purpose, Itadori sings out louder, circling the boy's hips down against him. Fushiguro's skin is still warm and moist from the steam of his shower. Yuji slowly licks along the column of his neck, kissing each droplet he finds. The tender gesture is nearly counterproductive. He hears the hiccupping sob choked back by his partner. He overstepped.
Sorry… He bites back the urge to say it out loud, knowing it would stop their endeavor to acknowledge Megumi is feeling anything at all. That isn't why he started crawling into Yuji's bed in the first place, whimpering with need. He comes to forget.
Instead, he grabs a mindful fist into Megumi's hair, forcing his head back, and bites into the brunette's shoulder.
"Aah!"
When searching fingers seek out the heat radiating between his thighs, he eagerly rocks down onto them. Yuji's touch is firm and deliberate, meaningfully stretching Megumi open little by little. He pushes the boy flat onto his back, lifting both legs to fully expose him. Megumi's length brushes his stomach, smearing drips of precum already pearling from the tip. He loves to be forced open this way. The creamy backs of his thighs on display for whoever is handling him to bite or strike as they see fit. A tender, loving touch does nothing compared to the escape of being fucked to the crux of his existence. He doesn't make love like the other boys.
He needs to feel used until he no longer exists.
"Hold yourself open," Yuji commands, switching into the role Fushiguro requires of him. "And watch me the whole time."
Obeying at once, Megumi's hands spread his ass, waiting for his next order. His green eyes shine appreciatively with unspoken thanks. Itadori sinks down, burying his tongue inside. Fushiguro screams, no longer caring if he's heard by anyone else in the dorm wing.
"Aaah! Fuck! OH, f-fuck! Yujii–" A hand claps over his mouth to mute him. He's bolder than Yuji has nerves to face up to later. Maybe he doesn't care about the sidelong glances from other students at the breakfast table after they spend the night together, but the faculty doesn't know about the student sleeping arrangements. They might have something to say about it if they were to catch on.
When Megumi's mouth remains open, frozen lewdly as his most intimate place is devoured and prepared for ravaging, he receives two thick fingers that stroke his tongue suggestively. He sucks them, gagging himself willingly. Yuji kisses into tender thigh muscle, sucking hard to leave a mark behind. Megumi likes reminders.
"You… want to suck my cock, don't you?" He already knows he didn't deliver the line correctly. He's not supposed to ask. Hastily, he corrects his error. "Who cares what you want. You're going to do it."
Yuji hauls the slobbering, limp form of Fushiguro upright, using his fingers mindfully as a hook to lure his mouth down over himself. The heat of Megumi's panting breaths, puffing and struggling to accommodate around the massive girth blocking his air only makes Yuji throb with force. He lightly bounces his hips in place, toying with Megumi's gag reflex, scraping into his throat to hear the abject whines to signal for him to stop. He hears nothing. Clutching fistfulls of dark hair, Yuji groans with the struggle of whether or not to keep going. He reaches behind Megumi, fondling the smoothness of his ass with an appreciative squeeze.
"Good boy," He praises accidentally as he slips a finger in.
Fushiguro's eyes roll back as his spirit begins to unburden little by little, free of all responsibility aside from pleasing the man using his body. He buries his nose into the dark curls at the base of Yuji's cock, humming when he feels himself being penetrated at last. He rolls his hips back only to be pulled forward again and gagged roughly. Oh, god, this is what he needs. Being swept away in the moment, a ragdoll with no emotions, is saving him from self hatred. Another finger pushes into him, this time from Yuji's opposite hand. Being pulled from two sides, Megumi feels his hole being inevitably stretched open. There's a warmth that fills him as Itadori presses his chest against the smaller boy's back to spit inside. Again. And again. It's humiliating, but it's his salvation.
"You're such a fucking boyslut," Yuji moans as he sends three curling fingers pumping to caress Megumi's prostate. "So good at sucking cock…"
There's a muffled scream but Fushiguro only bounces his hips in place, his cock leaking in rivulets on the sheets. Oh fuck, if he could only stay like this, suspended between pleasure and pain with no control. Then he'd never have to think again, or remember why he cried himself to sleep.
"Sorcerer slut," Yuji grunts. He spits on his fingers again, lubing them and twisting against Megumi's g-spot harder. If he says the right things now, Megumi will cum. Degradation always sends him over his edge. But having to think those things isn't first nature to Itadori by any means.
The same pet names Sukuna had hissed into his ear while he attempted to maintain focus so many times before eventually bled through whenever his possession took hold. Anytime Fushiguro's gorgeous, naked body was laid bare beneath him, it would send Sukuna into a raving madness. How he longed for full control over his vessel to rip, tear and maim that precious pale boy. The sutras Megumi made kept him woefully subdued. Whenever he was able to steal even a moment of time for himself, he'd only have enough control to whisper the most vile and bloodthirsty threats he could think of. Megumi eventually found himself waiting for the glimpses of the beast behind the boy, even anticipating them.
"Little fucking priest," Yuji growls, sinking his teeth into Megumi's hip. Hard.
"Gahh!" A loud gag on his cock and the spasming muscles around his fingers finally gives Yuji unspoken permission to dial himself back. Not a moment too soon. He smooths his palm apologetically over his bite mark, massaging the spot lovingly. More for himself than for Fushiguro, who felt no ill will for his wound. On the contrary, it pulses beautifully.
Pulling his mouth off of Yuji's rigid cock, Megumi gasps for breath. His trembling hands pump over the glistening shaft diligently, eager to repay the favor.
"Can… Can I hold you now?" Yuji asks. He waits for his friend to nod before wrapping his arms around him.
He sighs contentedly, letting the rhythm of their hearts beating flush against one another bring him the same peace he'd just given to Megumi. "Good boy," He coaxes, knowing he'd never be asked to say it.
The smaller boy buries his face into Yuji's neck, continuing his ministrations, languidly caressing Yuji from base to tip. His hips leap to meet each downward stroke, signaling he's getting closer. "I love you, Fushiguro," Yuji moans into his ear. "I love you so fucking much. You're a good boy, You know that?"
Megumi clenches his eyes shut, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears in a weak attempt to block out the praise. He hates how it makes him more aware of his trespasses. Good boys don't betray their friends. Or build their prison cells.
Stop it…
"My good boy–"
Shut up!
Silencing his words, Fushiguro smashes his lips to Yuji's. With a spasm, his body shudders, releasing his climax. Yuji whimpers, kissing Megumi over and over. He's learned to get in every last second of intimacy he possibly can until being needed again.
They lie together in silence, listening to the shower running unattended.
"We should get up," Megumi suggests.
"Yeah… I'm going to shower, then we'll… We'll try to have the best day we can. Okay?" Yuji kisses his friend's forehead.
He says nothing in response, watching as he walks to the bathroom and steps into the shower, leaving the door open in case Megumi wants to join him.
Instead he rolls over in bed again, hugging a pillow to his chest. When he sees your kimono lying underneath, his chin dimples, eyes stinging. He rests his head upon the cool silk. Megumi has so many regrets when he thinks of you. Where did you go? How is he supposed to find you?
With a heavy heart, he reaches for his uniform. From the inside lining, he pulls out a single black feather, picked up from where he last saw you. It twirls slowly between his fingers. He whispers your name...
"Wherever you are, I hope you're safe."
.
.
.
To be continued…