Back to you

The air in Tokyo felt different today. It was crisper, charged with an electric anticipation that made Yumi’s heart drum a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She smoothed down her skirt—a pleated black mini that sat high on her waist—and adjusted her uniform jacket. In her usual rebellious fashion, she had left the bottom few buttons undone, allowing a hint of midriff to peek through, a style that usually earned her exasperated sighs from the faculty and lingering stares from everyone else.

But today, she didn't care about the stares. She only cared about one person.

Yuta Okkotsu was back.

When the tall, slender silhouette appeared at the end of the school’s main walkway, Yumi didn't hesitate. Her long, straight black hair whipped behind her like a silken banner as she broke into a sprint.

"Yuta!" she screamed, her voice a mix of a sob and a cheer.

She launched herself at him, her small frame colliding with his chest with enough force to make him stumble back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. He smelled like rain and something metallic—the scent of a sorcerer who had seen too much—but beneath that was the familiar, comforting warmth she remembered from their childhood.

"You're back, you're finally back," she whimpered into his coat.

"I'm home, Yumi," he said, his voice deeper than she remembered.

As she pulled back to look at him, the breath died in her throat. The boy who had left for Africa was gone. In his place stood a man. His jawline was sharper, his eyes held a weary but profound depth, and his shoulders had broadened significantly. He was hauntingly handsome, possessing a quiet, dangerous grace that made her pulse spike for an entirely different reason.

Suddenly acutely aware of how short her skirt was and how tightly she was clinging to him, Yumi felt a heat crawl up her neck. She disentangled herself quickly, her playful confidence evaporating into a cloud of bashful stuttering.

"Y-you grew," she managed, looking at her boots. "I mean, obviously. But you look... different."

Yuta offered her a soft, lopsided smile—the one that used to make her feel like the only girl in the world. "And you haven't changed a bit. Still breaking the dress code, I see?"

She puffed out her cheeks, trying to regain her usual sunny disposition. "It's called fashion, Yuta! You wouldn't get it after living in the jungle."

Before he could respond, the moment was shattered.

"Okkotsu! You're actually here!"

Panda’s booming voice preceded a literal stampede. Within seconds, Maki, Inumaki, and a swarm of younger students surrounded him. Yumi was gently but firmly pushed to the periphery of the circle. She watched as Maki punched his arm in greeting and Inumaki offered a supportive "Tuna mayo."

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind that Yumi felt she was watching through a glass partition.

At dinner, the mess hall was louder than she had ever heard it. Everyone wanted a piece of the Special Grade sorcerer. They wanted stories of his missions, details about his training with Miguel, and his take on the current state of the jujutsu world. Yuta handled it with his characteristic politeness, but Yumi noticed the way his eyes occasionally flickered toward the end of the table where she sat quietly picking at her rice.

Every time she tried to catch his eye or pipe up with a joke, someone else would interrupt. Gojo-sensei was the worst, draping an arm over Yuta’s shoulders and regaling the first-years with exaggerated tales of Yuta’s exploits, effectively turning the dinner into a lecture.

Yumi felt a pang of loneliness. She was his childhood sweetheart. They had shared secrets under the summer stars and promised to protect each other before curses and grades ever mattered. Now, she felt like just another face in his growing fan club.

By the time the moon was high in the sky, Yumi had retreated to her room. She changed into a soft, oversized t-shirt that fell to mid-thigh and sat on her window seat, staring out at the training grounds. The silence of the room was heavy. She felt foolish for thinking things would pick up exactly where they left off. He was a hero now; she was just Yumi.

A soft, rhythmic knocking at her door made her jump.

"Yumi? Are you awake?"

Her heart did a somersault. She scrambled off the window seat and rushed to the door, checking her hair in the mirror for a split second before swinging it open.

Yuta stood in the hallway. He had discarded his heavy white uniform jacket, wearing only a dark t-shirt that clung to his frame. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent in the dim light.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "The dinner... it was a lot."

"It's okay," she said, stepping back to let him in. "You're a celebrity now. I should have asked for an autograph while I had the chance."

Yuta entered the room, the space suddenly feeling much smaller with his presence. He didn't sit on the chair; instead, he leaned against the wall near her bed, watching her with an intensity that made her fidget with the hem of her shirt.

"I didn't come back for the autographs, Yumi," he said softly.

The air in the room grew thick with unspoken words. Yumi sat on the edge of her bed, tucking her legs under her. "I missed you. A lot. It was quiet here without you making sure I didn't get into trouble."

Yuta let out a dry laugh. "From what I heard, you still got into plenty of trouble. Maki sent me letters, you know. She mentioned you almost blew up the chemistry lab trying to make 'sparkling' cursed energy."

Yumi laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "It would have looked great! Very aesthetic."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of shared history. But beneath the comfort, Yumi felt the ache of her feelings. She loved him. She had loved him since they were ten years old, through the tragedy of Rika and the years of his absence. But looking at him now—so composed, so powerful—she wondered if he still saw her as that little girl, or if he saw her at all.

"Yuta?" she asked, her voice small.

"Yeah?"

"Did you... did you think about home? While you were away?"

Yuta moved then, crossing the small gap between them. He sank down onto the floor at her feet, leaning his back against the side of her bed so he was looking up at her. It was a gesture of such vulnerability that it took her breath away.

"Every day," he admitted. He reached out, his fingers hovering near her hand before he pulled back. "Africa was... complicated. There were times I didn't think I’d make it back. And when things got really dark, I didn't think about the school, or Gojo-sensei, or even the missions."

He paused, his gaze dropping to his lap. "I thought about that time we found the stray kitten behind the convenience store. And how you cried because you couldn't take it home, so we built it a house out of cardboard boxes. I thought about the way you laugh when you're embarrassed."

Yumi felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "You remembered that?"

"I remembered everything," Yuta said, finally reaching out to take her hand. His palm was calloused, his grip firm yet incredibly gentle. "I was afraid that when I came back, you would have moved on. That you wouldn't want to wait for someone who carries as much baggage as I do."

Yumi squeezed his hand, leaning down so her face was inches from his. "You're an idiot, Yuta Okkotsu. I've been wearing my skirts short and my buttons open just to see if I could get a rise out of the boys here, but honestly? None of them are you. None of them could ever be you."

Yuta’s eyes widened slightly, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "So... the dress code violations were a distraction technique?"

"Maybe," she teased, though her voice wavered with emotion. "I just wanted to know if you still felt it. The connection. Or if I was just a memory you outgrew."

Yuta stood up slowly, never letting go of her hand. He pulled her up with him until they were standing chest-to-chest. He was so much taller now that she had to tilt her head back significantly to look at him.

"I could never outgrow you, Yumi," he whispered. "You're the reason I wanted to get stronger. I wanted to come back to a world where I could actually stand beside you without being a danger."

He reached up, his thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the day we met, and the distance only made it clearer."

Yumi’s heart felt like it was going to burst. All the insecurity of the afternoon, the jealousy of the crowd, the fear of his change—it all melted away in the warmth of his gaze.

"I love you too," she breathed.

She stood on her tiptoes, and this time, he met her halfway. The kiss was hesitant at first, a gentle reacquainting of two souls who had been apart for too long. It tasted of longing and promises kept. As Yuta wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, Yumi knew that no matter how much he had changed on the outside, his heart was still the same place she called home.

When they finally pulled apart, Yuta rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing a bit heavily.

"So," Yuta whispered, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "About those open buttons..."

Yumi giggled, shoving him lightly. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Special Grade. You still have to make up for a year of missed birthdays and anniversaries."

Yuta smiled, and for the first time since he stepped off the plane, the shadows in his eyes seemed to vanish completely. "I have all the time in the world, Yumi. I'm not going anywhere."

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees of the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus, but inside the small room, the world was perfectly still, anchored by a bond that no curse or distance could ever hope to break.