Eat you

The air in the Tokyo Jujutsu High dormitories was thick with the scent of ozone and the lingering dampness of a summer rain. Yuki sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing the hem of the same short skirt she had worn that night with Megumi—the night that had changed everything. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the memory of his tongue, his intensity, and the shocking revelation of his past experience still burned in her mind.

"I need to think," she whispered to the empty room, her voice trembling. "I need to choose."

Her heart was a battlefield. On one side stood Megumi Fushiguro, the boy who had unraveled her innocence with a dark, possessive hunger. He was silent, stoic, and complicated, but the way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in a world full of curses. On the other side was Yuta Okkotsu. Sweet, gentle Yuta, her childhood friend who had returned from overseas with a smile that felt like home and a kiss that had tasted of longing and starlight.

The kiss with Yuta had happened yesterday, beneath the swaying boughs of the cherry trees. It had been soft, a desperate bridge across the years they had spent apart, and it had thrown Yuki’s world into a chaotic spiral. She had asked Megumi for a break, unable to look him in the eye while Yuta’s touch still tingled on her lips.

To find clarity, Yuki closed her eyes and let her imagination drift toward the horizon. She needed to see the finish line. She needed to see a marriage.

First, she pictured Megumi.

In her mind, the years blurred forward. They were living in a small, traditional house on the outskirts of Tokyo. The rooms were filled with the quiet shadows Megumi favored. She saw herself standing in a kitchen, wearing an apron, stirring a pot of ginger soup. The door would slide open, and Megumi would walk in, his dark hair damp from a mission, his uniform tattered.

He wouldn't say much. He never did. But he would walk straight to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck. In this future, the jealousy she felt about his "past" had faded into a dull ache, replaced by the security of being the one he came home to.

"I'm back," he would mutter, his voice raspy.

"Welcome home," she would reply, leaning back into his strength.

The nights would be intense. Megumi wasn't a man of half-measures. In their marital bed, he would be just as demanding as he had been in his dorm room, his hands claiming every inch of her, his mouth worshiping her with a proficiency that still made her blush even in her dreams. It would be a life of shadows and deep, unspoken passion. It would be a life where she was his anchor, the only thing keeping him from drifting into the cold darkness of his own technique.

But there was a sharp edge to it. A fear that his silence would one day turn into a wall she couldn't climb. A fear that his past would always be a ghost between them.

Yuki opened her eyes, her breath hitching. She shook her head and turned her thoughts to Yuta.

The vision shifted. The colors became brighter, warmer. She saw a house filled with light, the windows thrown wide to let in the breeze. There were flowers on the table—sunflowers, perhaps. Yuta was there, laughing as he helped her dry the dishes. He was no longer the haunted boy with the Special Grade curse looming over him; he was a man who had found peace.

"Yuki, look at what I found in the garden," he would say, holding up a misshapen tomato with a grin that reached his eyes.

Life with Yuta would be kind. He would tell her he loved her every single day, sometimes twice or three times just to be sure she knew. He would hold her hand while they walked through the park, and there would be no secrets, no hidden girlfriends from the past to fret over. He was her childhood friend; they grew from the same soil. Their souls were intertwined by history.

When they moved to the bedroom in this vision, it was different. It wasn't the raw, animalistic hunger she felt with Megumi. It was a slow dance, a gentle exploration where every touch was an "I love you." It was safe. It was beautiful.

"It's so hard," Yuki sobbed, pulling her knees to her chest. "Why is it so hard?"

A soft knock at the door startled her. She wiped her eyes hurriedly, her heart leaping into her throat. Was it Megumi, coming to tell her the break was over? Or was it Yuta, checking on her after their kiss?

She stood up and opened the door. It was Yuta. He looked tired, his white uniform slightly rumpled, but his eyes were full of a devastating tenderness.

"Yuki," he said softly. "I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about yesterday."

Yuki stepped back, allowing him to enter. The small room felt even smaller with his presence. "Yuta, I told you I needed time. I'm... I'm still on a break with Megumi. It wouldn't be right."

Yuta took a step toward her, his expression pained. "I know. And I hate that I’m the one causing you this much stress. But when I was away, the only thing that kept me going was the thought of coming back to you. Seeing you with him... it felt like a curse I couldn't exorcise."

"He treats me well, Yuta," Yuki said, though her voice lacked conviction. "He’s... he’s very good to me."

"Is he?" Yuta asked, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was like a brand. "Does he make you feel cherished? Or does he just make you feel like you belong to him?"

Yuki looked down at her feet. "I don't know the difference anymore."

"I want to marry you one day, Yuki," Yuta whispered, the confession hanging in the air like a vow. "I’ve thought about it since we were kids. I want to build a life where you never have to wonder if you’re enough. Where you never have to be jealous of anyone because you’re my entire world."

Yuki felt a tear escape. This was exactly what she had visualized—the bright, happy home. The safety.

"But I kissed him first," she choked out. "I gave him things I can't take back. I let him... I let him do things to me, Yuta. Things that made me feel like I was melting."

Yuta’s expression flickered with a brief flash of hurt, but he didn't pull away. He cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him. "Your past with him doesn't change how I feel about you. I don't care who was first, Yuki. I care about who is last."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. For a moment, Yuki felt the pull of the peaceful life. She could say yes. She could end things with Megumi tonight and choose the path of light.

But then, the image of Megumi’s face flashed in her mind. Not the stoic mask he wore for the world, but the way he looked when he was buried inside her—brows furrowed, eyes dark with a desperate, primal need for her. She remembered the way he had whispered her name against her skin, as if it were a prayer he was ashamed to say out loud.

Megumi was a storm. Yuta was the sun.

"I can't decide yet," Yuki whispered, her hands trembling as she gripped Yuta’s wrists. "I'm so sorry, Yuta. I'm so confused. I love you, I really do. You're my best friend. But when I think about a future without him... it feels like I'm losing a part of my soul."

Yuta sighed, a long, shaky breath that rattled in his chest. He stepped back, giving her the space she desperately needed. "I understand. I won't force you. But I'm not going to give up, Yuki. I've waited years to be by your side again. I can wait a little longer for you to see that we belong together."

He turned to leave, pausing at the threshold. "Just remember, Yuki. Marriage isn't just about who you can live with. It's about who you can't live without."

When the door closed, Yuki collapsed back onto her bed. Her mind was a whirlwind of ginger soup and sunflowers, of dark shadows and bright mornings.

She thought back to Megumi’s dorm room. She thought about the way she had felt when she found out he had been with someone else before her. The jealousy had been visceral, a green-eyed monster that had clawed at her throat. But why? Was it because she was insecure, or was it because she couldn't stand the thought of him sharing that intensity with anyone else?

If she chose Yuta, she would never feel that jealousy again. He would be hers, entirely and purely.

But if she chose Megumi, every day would be a challenge. Every day would be an effort to bridge the gap between his silence and her heart. And yet, the rewards... the way he touched her, the way he seemed to crumble only for her...

"Megumi," she breathed, reaching for her phone.

She looked at her messages. There was a single unread text from him, sent an hour ago.

Are you okay?

It was simple. Short. Typical Megumi. But she knew that for him, those three words carried the weight of an ocean. He was giving her space because she asked for it, even though it was clearly killing him.

Yuki began to type a reply, then stopped. She deleted it. Then she started again.

I'm thinking about the future, she wrote. I'm thinking about what happens after the jujutsu world is done with us.

She waited. The "typing" bubbles appeared almost instantly.

And? Megumi replied.

Yuki stared at the screen. She thought about the kitchen in the shadows. She thought about the way he would hold her after a long day of fighting curses.

And I think I'm scared, she sent.

Don't be, came the reply. I've got you. Always.

Yuki felt a shiver run down her spine. Megumi’s words were a tether, pulling her back toward the darkness she found so strangely intoxicating. But then she looked at the door Yuta had just walked through. She could still smell his scent—something clean and sweet, like rain on fresh grass.

She was a girl caught between two worlds. One offered her the comfort of her childhood and a heart that would never break hers. The other offered a passion that burned so hot it threatened to consume her, led by a man who was as broken as he was beautiful.

"Who do I choose?" she asked the ceiling.

She stood up and walked to her window, looking out over the darkened campus of Jujutsu High. In the distance, she could see the training grounds where she had spent so many hours with both of them.

She realized then that visualizing the marriage hadn't made the choice easier. It had only highlighted what she would be losing regardless of who she picked. If she chose Yuta, she would lose the fire. If she chose Megumi, she would lose the peace.

And the jealousy... she realized now that her jealousy of Megumi’s past wasn't just about him having a girlfriend before her. It was about the fear that she wasn't enough to keep him in the light.

"I need to talk to him," she decided. "Not as a girlfriend on a break. Not as a confused childhood friend. I need to see him."

She grabbed her sweater and headed for the door. She didn't know if she was going to Megumi’s room or if she was going to find Yuta to tell him she couldn't be what he wanted. All she knew was that the weight of the unwritten future was too heavy to carry alone.

As she stepped into the hallway, the cool air hit her face. She took a deep breath, the scent of the school—the old wood, the incense, the hidden power—filling her lungs.

She started walking toward the boys' wing. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Every step felt like a betrayal of one and a promise to the other.

She reached Megumi’s door and hesitated. Her hand hovered over the wood.

"Megumi?" she whispered.

The door opened before she could knock. Megumi stood there, looking as if he hadn't slept in days. His eyes searched hers, desperate and searching.

"Yuki," he said, his voice a low growl. "I thought you wanted space."

"I did," she said, her voice cracking. "But I realized something."

"What?"

"I realized that I'm terrified of a life without you. But I'm also terrified of a life where I'm always looking over my shoulder at the girls who came before me."

Megumi stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He grabbed her hand, pulling her into the room and shutting the door behind them. He pushed her against the wood, his body a warm, solid weight against hers.

"There is no one else, Yuki," he hissed, his face inches from hers. "There was a past, yes. I can't change that. But there is no one in my head but you. There is no one I want to come home to but you. If you want a marriage, if you want a future... I'll give you everything I have. Just don't look at him like that again."

"Like what?" she gasped.

"Like he's the one who can save you," Megumi said, his grip tightening. "Because he can't. Only we can do that."

He kissed her then—not the sweet, starlight kiss of Yuta, but a kiss of salt and storm and possessive certainty. And as Yuki melted into him, she felt the vision of the quiet kitchen in the shadows return, stronger than ever.

It wasn't perfect. it wasn't safe. But as Megumi’s hands found the hem of her skirt, Yuki knew that for now, the choice had been made by the heart that beat the loudest.

Outside, in the hallway, a shadow moved away from the door. Yuta stood in the darkness for a long moment, listening to the silence that followed the storm, before turning and walking back toward the light of the moon alone.