Muscles

The sun beat down on the Tokyo Jujutsu High sports field with an intensity that matched Satoru Gojo’s overwhelming enthusiasm. He had declared it a "Mandatory Team Bonding Athletic Extravaganza," which mostly meant he wanted to see his students sweat while he sat in the shade eating expensive popsicles.

Yuki sat on the lowest tier of the bleachers, her hands tucked neatly between her knees. She was the kind of girl who blended into the background like a soft watercolor painting—quiet, observant, and perpetually flustered by the loud energy of her peers. Her eyes, however, were locked firmly on the makeshift basketball court.

Specifically, they were locked on Yuji Itadori.

Because of the sweltering heat, Yuji had long since discarded his uniform jacket and shirt. He moved across the asphalt with a fluid, feline grace that Yuki found dizzying. Every time he jumped for a rebound, the muscles in his back rippled like cords of steel under sun-kissed skin. Beads of sweat trickled down the dip of his spine, disappearing into the waistband of his athletic shorts.

Yuki felt a strange, fluttering heat rising in her chest that had nothing to do with the weather. She had barely spoken ten words to Yuji all semester; he was so bright and kind that she felt like a moth staring at the sun, afraid she’d burn up if she got too close.

"Careful, Yuki-chan," a voice teased near her ear. "If you stare any harder, you might actually set him on fire."

Yuki jumped, her face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled a ripe tomato. Nobara Kugisaki stood beside her, smirking as she fanned herself with a plastic folder.

"I-I wasn't staring!" Yuki stammered, pulling her oversized cardigan tighter despite the ninety-degree heat.

"Please. You were practically drooling," Nobara laughed, her eyes glinting with a sudden, predatory mischief. "He’s a beast on the court, isn't he? It’s a shame you’re too shy to even say hello."

"He’s just... very talented," Yuki whispered, her eyes drifting back to Yuji as he let out a boisterous laugh, high-fiving Megumi after a successful layup. The way his biceps flexed when he wiped sweat from his forehead made Yuki’s breath hitch.

Nobara watched the interaction—or lack thereof—and a plan began to form in her mind. "Well, we’re all heading to Yuji’s dorm tonight. Gojo managed to 'confiscate' some high-end sake and beer from a local cursed spirit investigation. You’re coming."

"Oh, I don't know," Yuki murmured. "I’m not very good with crowds."

"It’s not a request," Nobara said, grabbing Yuki’s arm. "It’s a mission."

***

By 9:00 PM, Yuji’s dorm room was packed. The air was thick with the smell of snacks and the sharp tang of alcohol. Yuki, usually the girl who sipped water at the edge of the room, had been "helped" by Nobara into drinking three cups of high-proof sake in rapid succession.

The transformation was subtle at first. The tension left Yuki’s shoulders. The blush on her cheeks became permanent. And her shyness, which usually acted as a heavy iron gate, began to swing wide open.

"I think," Yuki announced to no one in particular, her voice much louder than usual, "that Yuji is very, very shiny."

Nobara grinned, nudging Maki. "It’s starting. Time for the main event."

Nobara stood up, clapping her hands for attention. "Alright, losers! We’re bored. It’s time for a classic. Seven Minutes in Heaven. I’ve put everyone’s names in this empty bag of chips."

A chorus of groans and protests erupted, but Nobara was an irresistible force. She had already rigged the draw. She reached into the bag, pretending to rustle the papers, and pulled out two slips.

"Oh, look at that! What a coincidence," Nobara lied through her teeth. "Yuji and Yuki. Get in the closet!"

Yuji rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. "Uh, is this really necessary, Kugisaki? Yuki looks a little... out of it."

"I’m great!" Yuki chirped, standing up with a slight wobble. She marched over to Yuji and took his hand. Her palm was warm, and she didn't pull away. "Let’s go into the dark box, Yuji."

The room erupted in hooting and whistling as Yuji, blushing furiously, led Yuki into the small walk-in closet. Nobara slammed the door shut behind them.

"Seven minutes! I’m timing you!" she yelled through the wood.

Inside, it was pitch black and smelled of Yuji’s laundry detergent—sandalwood and citrus. The space was cramped, forcing them to stand chest-to-chest.

"Sorry about this, Yuki," Yuji whispered, his voice deep and vibrating in the small space. "Nobara can be a lot. We can just sit here and talk until—"

He was cut off by a pair of small, surprisingly firm hands grabbing his face.

"You’re so loud," Yuki whispered. Her voice wasn't shy anymore. It was low, honeyed, and dangerous. "And you’re so warm."

Before Yuji could process the change in her demeanor, Yuki stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. It wasn't a shy first kiss; it was hungry. She tasted like sweet rice wine and desperation. Yuji froze for a heartbeat, his brain short-circuiting, before his instincts took over. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Yuki let out a soft moan into his mouth, her fingers sliding up from his cheeks to tangle in his pink hair. She pulled back just an inch, her breath hot against his skin.

"I watched you today," she murmured, her hands traveling down to his shoulders. "I watched your arms. I wanted to touch them all day."

She didn't wait for an answer. She dropped her head, pressing her lips to the junction of his neck and shoulder, biting softly. Yuji groaned, his grip on her waist tightening. "Yuki... wait, you’re drunk..."

"I’m bold," she corrected, sliding her hands down to his biceps. She squeezed the muscle, her eyes hooded in the dark. "So big. So strong."

She began to kiss his arms, her tongue tracing the lines of his muscles through his thin t-shirt. She was frantic, her shyness replaced by a primal need to consume the man she had admired from afar. Yuji felt like he was losing his mind. He leaned back against the closet wall as Yuki dropped to her knees.

Her hands went to the button of his jeans, her fingers surprisingly nimble despite the alcohol.

"Yuki, hey, we should—" Yuji started, his breath hitching as she pressed a kiss to his stomach, just above his waistband.

"I want to see you," she whispered, her hand sliding inside his pants, her palm cupping him through his underwear.

Yuji’s head hit the wall with a thud. "Oh god..."

Just as she began to tug his zipper down, the closet door flew open. Light flooded in, blinding them both.

"Time’s up, lovebirds!" Nobara shouted, though her smirk faltered when she saw Yuki on her knees and Yuji looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

Yuki blinked, the sudden light partially snapping her back to reality. She scrambled to her feet, her face turning a shade of purple-red. Yuji quickly turned away to adjust himself, coughing into his hand.

"Uh, we're coming out," Yuji said, his voice an octave higher than usual.

The rest of the night was a blur. Yuki, overwhelmed by the sudden return of her self-consciousness and the spinning of the room, slipped away shortly after, practically running back to her own dorm.

***

The next morning was a nightmare of headache and humiliation.

Yuki sat on her bed, her head buried in her hands. The memories of the closet came back in flashes: the taste of him, the feel of his skin, the way she had practically attacked him.

"I have to move," she whispered to her empty room. "I have to transfer schools. Maybe I can move to the Kyoto branch. Or another country."

She avoided the cafeteria. She avoided the training grounds. She spent the entire day hiding in the library or her room, jumping every time she heard a footstep in the hallway. She was certain Yuji hated her, or worse, thought she was a total creep.

As night fell, a soft knock sounded at her door.

Yuki froze. "Who is it?"

"It’s me. Yuji."

Yuki considered jumping out the window. Her room was on the second floor; she’d probably survive, but she might break a leg. She sighed, walked to the door, and opened it just a crack.

Yuji was standing there, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He wasn't wearing his uniform, just a plain black hoodie and sweatpants.

"Hi," he said softly.

"I’m so sorry," Yuki blurted out before he could say anything else. "I was drunk, and I was inappropriate, and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I’ll never do it again, I promise—"

"Yuki, stop," Yuji interrupted, a small, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "You didn't make me uncomfortable."

Yuki blinked. "I didn't?"

"No." He stepped closer, the heat she remembered from the closet radiating off him. "Actually, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day. I... I’ve liked you for a long time, Yuki. But you’re always so quiet, I thought I’d just scare you if I tried anything."

Yuki’s heart did a somersault. "You liked me?"

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And since we got interrupted last night... I thought maybe we could finish what we started. If you want to. And if you’re sober enough to know what you’re doing."

Yuki didn't say a word. She reached out, grabbed the strings of his hoodie, and pulled him into her room, slamming the door shut and locking it in one fluid motion.

The shyness was still there, flickering in her eyes, but the desire she had felt on the basketball court was stronger. She reached up, her hands trembling slightly as she cupped his face.

"I’m very sober," she whispered. "And I really want you to stay."

Yuji didn't need to be told twice. He leaned down, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss that was much slower and deeper than the frantic ones in the closet. It was a promise.

He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. Yuki let out a small gasp as he carried her toward the bed, her fingers immediately finding the hem of his hoodie. She wanted it off. She wanted to see the muscles she had admired under the sun.

As he pulled the garment over his head, Yuki’s breath caught. He was even more beautiful up close. The scars on his body only added to the rugged, powerful aura he projected.

"You’re staring again," Yuji teased, his voice husky as he hovered over her on the mattress.

"I can’t help it," she whispered, reaching out to trace the line of his pectoral muscle.

Yuji captured her hand, kissing her palm before pinning it gently above her head. "My turn to stare."

He looked at her with such raw intensity that Yuki felt her entire body hum. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips, his movements deliberate and worshipful. When his hands began to slide her shirt up, Yuki arched into him, her inhibitions melting away in the heat of his touch.

The night shifted from tentative touches to a feverish rhythm. Yuji was a gentle but commanding lover, his strength tempered by a deep-seated need to make sure she was with him every step of the way. Yuki, empowered by his reactions to her, became bold once more, her nails marking his back as he drove them both toward a crashing crescendo.

In the quiet aftermath, the moonlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the tangled sheets. Yuki lay with her head on Yuji’s chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. His arm was draped over her, his thumb idly stroking her shoulder.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice thick with sleepiness.

Yuki smiled, snuggling closer to his warmth. "I think I like sports day."

Yuji laughed, the vibration rumbling through his chest. "Me too, Yuki. Me too."

As she drifted off to sleep, Yuki realized she didn't need the sake to be bold anymore. She just needed him. And as Yuji tightened his hold on her, she knew he wasn't planning on going anywhere.