Not Your Type

The neon lights of Shinjuku blurred into streaks of pink and blue against the rain-slicked pavement. Inside the small, cramped izakaya, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the chilly evening outside. It was loud, smelled of grilled yakitori and cheap beer, and echoed with the laughter of four people who had known each other since they were tall enough to reach the bottom shelf of a candy store.

Mimi sat tucked into the corner of the wooden booth, her shoulders hunched slightly forward. She was a small woman, petite to the point where she often felt invisible in a crowd. She wore an oversized sweater that swallowed her frame, a conscious choice to hide the lack of curves she was certain the world—and specifically the man sitting across from her—found disappointing.

"Honestly, Fushiguro, if you scowl any harder, the beer is going to curdle," Nobara Kugisaki said, leaning back with a smirk. She looked radiant, confident in a fitted top that Mimi would never dare to wear.

"I’m not scowling," Megumi muttered, though he didn't look up from his drink. "I’m just tired. Gojo had us running errands all morning."

"You’re always tired," Yuji Itadori chimed in, his grin wide and infectious. He slapped a hand on Megumi’s back, nearly sending the stoic man face-first into his edamame. "Live a little! We’re finally all together again."

Yuji looked different as an adult, Mimi thought, her heart doing that painful, familiar little skip. His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and he carried a quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him. He was everything she wasn't—vibrant, bold, and seemingly untroubled by the world.

"Mimi, you’re being quiet," Yuji said, his amber eyes turning toward her. "Are you okay? You haven't even touched your skewers."

Mimi flinched slightly, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "I’m fine! Just... not very hungry."

"You need to eat more," Yuji said, picking up a chicken skewer and holding it out to her like a peace offering. "You’re so tiny, a strong wind could blow you away."

He meant it as a joke, a lighthearted comment from a lifelong friend, but Mimi felt the words like a physical blow. *Tiny.* To her ears, it sounded like *childlike.* It sounded like *unremarkable.*

"I’m fine, Yuji. Really," she whispered, looking down at her lap.

Nobara’s eyes flickered between them, a sharp, calculating glint appearing in her gaze. She had watched this dance for years. Mimi’s pining was as obvious as a curse in a graveyard, and Yuji’s obliviousness was equally legendary. Usually, Nobara was content to let them suffer, but tonight, seeing the way Mimi shrank into herself, her patience finally snapped.

"Hey, Itadori," Nobara said, her voice dropping into a dangerously casual tone. "What’s your type again? You used to talk about it all the time."

Yuji blinked, caught off guard. "My type? Uh, Jennifer Lawrence? Tall girls with big butts, I guess? Why are you bringing this up now?"

Mimi felt the air leave her lungs. It was an old answer, one she had heard a hundred times, but it never got easier. She adjusted her sweater, feeling the flat plane of her chest and the lack of height that defined her existence. She was the polar opposite of his "type."

"Just curious," Nobara said, her eyes narrowing as she watched Mimi’s face fall. "Because you’re being an idiot."

"Huh? What did I do?" Yuji asked, genuinely confused.

"Nothing, Yuji," Mimi said quickly, sliding out of the booth. "I—I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back."

She hurried away before any of them could see the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

The silence at the table was heavy for exactly three seconds after Mimi disappeared around the corner.

"What is wrong with you?" Nobara hissed, leaning across the table to poke Yuji hard in the chest.

"Ow! What? I didn't do anything!" Yuji protested, rubbing his sternum.

"That’s exactly the problem," Megumi sighed, finally looking up. "You really are dense."

"Mimi has been in love with you since we were ten years old," Nobara said, her voice a sharp whisper that cut through the noise of the restaurant. "And you sit there talking about tall girls with big bodies while she’s sitting right in front of you, literally starving herself and wearing bags for clothes because she thinks she isn't woman enough for you."

Yuji froze. The boisterous, cheerful energy he usually carried vanished instantly, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock. "Wait... Mimi? In love with me?"

"Yes, you moron!" Nobara slumped back, looking exhausted. "She thinks she’s unattractive. She thinks she’s too small, too flat, and too boring to ever catch your eye. She’s spent her whole life comparing herself to the girls you say you like, and tonight you just hammered the last nail in the coffin."

Yuji looked toward the hallway where Mimi had vanished. His mind raced, replaying a thousand memories through a new lens. The way she always brought him his favorite snacks. The way she would linger near him during movie nights. The way she always looked away blushing whenever he caught her staring.

He had always thought of her as "Mimi"—constant, precious, and fragile. He hadn't realized that while he was looking at celebrities on a screen, the most important person in his life was breaking her own heart trying to fit a mold he had carelessly built.

"I didn't know," Yuji said softly, his voice thick with guilt. "I never meant to make her feel like that. She’s... she’s Mimi. She’s amazing."

"Tell her that," Megumi said, gesturing toward the back of the izakaya. "Before she decides she’s better off without us."

Yuji didn't need to be told twice. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, and headed toward the back.

He found her standing by the sinks in the small hallway, dabbing at her eyes with a paper towel. When she saw him in the mirror, she jumped, trying to smooth her hair and look composed.

"Oh, Yuji. I was just coming back," she said, her voice trembling.

Yuji didn't say anything at first. He just looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw the way the oversized sweater slipped off one shoulder, revealing a delicate collarbone. He saw the soft curve of her jaw and the deep, soulful brown of her eyes. She was small, yes, but there was a grace to her that he had been too stupid to appreciate.

"Mimi," he said, stepping closer. The hallway was narrow, and his presence seemed to fill the entire space.

"I’m sorry about the Jennifer Lawrence thing," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "I... I say a lot of stupid things because I don't think. Nobara told me what’s been going on. About how you feel."

Mimi’s face went pale, then a violent shade of pink. She looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. "She—she shouldn't have said anything. It’s fine, Yuji. I know I’m not... I know I’m not what you like. We’re friends. Let’s just go back and—"

"It’s not fine," Yuji interrupted, stepping into her personal space. He reached out, his large hands gently taking hold of her upper arms. He felt how she trembled under his touch. "I’ve been an idiot. A total, Grade-A loser."

Mimi looked up at him, her eyes wide. "You aren't a loser."

"I am if I made you feel like you weren't enough," Yuji said, his voice dropping to a low, earnest rumble. "Mimi, you’ve been by my side through everything. When things got bad with the curses, when I was lonely... you were always there. I think I got so used to you being my 'home' that I forgot to look at what was right in front of me."

He let one hand slide up to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "You’re worried about being small? About not being 'curvy'?"

Mimi nodded miserably, a single tear escaping. "I’m just... I’m not a woman like that. I’m just me."

"And 'just you' is the person I want to talk to every morning," Yuji said. "You’re soft, and you’re kind, and you’re the bravest person I know. You don't need to be tall to be beautiful, Mimi. I think... I think I’ve been falling for you for a long time, and I was just too scared to admit that my 'type' was actually just a distraction from the girl who actually holds my heart."

Mimi’s breath hitched. "You’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me."

Yuji laughed, a short, breathless sound. He leaned down, bringing his face inches from hers. "Mimi, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a good enough actor to fake this."

He leaned in the rest of the way, pressing his forehead against hers. He could smell her shampoo—something soft and floral, like lilies. "Give me a chance? To show you that you’re exactly my type?"

Mimi felt the weight in her chest—the years of insecurity and unrequited longing—start to melt away, replaced by a terrifying, wonderful warmth. She reached up, her small hands clutching the front of his hoodie.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, Yuji."

He beamed, that signature sun-bright smile returning to his face, but this time it was directed entirely at her. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, a lingering, sweet gesture that made her toes curl.

"Let’s go back," he said, wrapping an arm securely around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side. "I want to finish dinner, and then I’m walking you home. Just us."

When they walked back to the table, Nobara took one look at Mimi’s blushing face and Yuji’s protective arm and smirked into her drink.

"About time," she muttered.

"Shut up, Nobara," Yuji said, though there was no sting in it. He pulled Mimi into the booth next to him, making sure she was tucked into the space between him and the wall, safe and seen.

For the first time in years, Mimi didn't try to hide under her sweater. She reached out, took a skewer from the plate, and began to eat, feeling the steady, warm weight of Yuji’s leg pressed against hers. She was small, and she was quiet, but for the man beside her, she was finally more than enough.