Love

The hallways of Tokyo Jujutsu High were usually filled with the scent of incense, old wood, and the lingering ozone of cursed energy. For Yumi, however, they mostly smelled like disappointment and Maki Zenin’s sweat.

Yumi adjusted the hem of her pleated skirt, which was already dangerously high, and checked her reflection in a window pane. Her eyeliner was sharp enough to kill a Grade 2 curse, and her lips were painted a soft, inviting peach. She looked incredible. She knew she looked incredible because Yuji Itadori had walked into a wall earlier that morning while staring at her, and even Panda had made a cheeky comment about "springtime blooming early."

But the only person who mattered was currently being swung around like a ragdoll in the training courtyard.

"Again," Maki barked, her polearm clattering against Yuta’s katana.

Yuta Okkotsu wiped sweat from his brow, his dark circles prominent as ever, his expression one of polite, focused exhaustion. "Maki-san, we’ve been at this for four hours. Don’t you think we should take a break?"

"A sorcerer doesn't get breaks in the middle of a domain expansion," Maki countered, though Yumi could see the way her eyes softened when she looked at him. Maki used training as a tether, a way to keep Yuta within arm’s reach under the guise of "improvement."

Yumi stepped out from the shadows of the corridor, putting a deliberate sway in her hips. "Oh, Yuta! I brought some chilled barley tea. I thought you might be thirsty."

Yuta turned, blinking those big, innocent eyes. He offered a small, tired smile. "Oh, thanks, Yumi-chan. That’s really kind of you."

He took the bottle, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting second. Yumi felt a spark go up her arm, but Yuta didn't even flinch. He just unscrewed the cap and took a long drink.

"You look nice today," Yuta added casually, glancing at her outfit. "Is that a new skirt? It looks a bit short for October, though. You’ll catch a cold."

Maki scoffed, leaning on her staff. "She’s fine, Okkotsu. Focus. If you have energy to worry about hemlines, you have energy for another sparring round."

Yumi’s smile twitched. *A cold?* She was wearing a push-up bra that was doing god’s work and a skirt that barely covered the essentials, and his primary concern was her immune system. It was infuriating. It was soul-crushing.

For months, Yumi had played this game. She was the "funny one," the girl who made him laugh with her quick wit, and the "sexy one," the girl who tried to show him exactly what he was missing. She was a small woman, but she knew how to pack a punch—both in combat and in style. Yet, Yuta remained an impenetrable fortress of obliviousness. Whether it was the trauma of Rika or just a natural lack of romantic radar, he seemed completely blind to the fact that Yumi was practically throwing herself at his feet.

By the time Halloween rolled around, Yumi had reached her breaking point.

"I'm done," Yumi declared, sitting on the edge of Nobara Kugisaki’s bed. "I’m officially retiring from the 'Make Yuta Notice Me' club. The dues are too high and the benefits are non-existent."

Nobara, who was busy applying a glittery eyeshadow, smirked. "About time. You’re a catch, Yumi. If he’s too busy playing 'swords' with Maki to notice a bombshell, that’s his loss. Tonight isn't about him. It’s about us."

"Exactly," Yumi said, glass of cheap wine in hand. "Tonight, I’m not 'Yumi the Sorcerer' or 'Yumi the Pining Mess.' Tonight, I’m a menace."

The party was held in the common area of the dorms, which had been transformed with plastic skeletons, orange lights, and plenty of alcohol smuggled in by some of the older students.

When Yumi finally emerged from her room, the room went quiet for a heartbeat.

She was dressed as a Playboy Bunny, but "classic" was an understatement. The black satin corset was laced so tightly it made her waist look tiny while hoisting her breasts into a precarious, eye-catching display. The bottom half consisted of high-cut velvet shorts that hugged her curves and showed the soft swell of her lower cheeks. Black fishnets encased her legs, ending in towering heels. With the velvet ears and a bold, blood-red lipstick, she looked less like a student and more like a fever dream.

"Holy—" Yuji choked on a piece of candy corn. "Yumi-chan? You look... wow."

"Just 'wow'?" Yumi teased, walking up to him and booping his nose. "I was going for 'unforgettable.'"

"Mission accomplished," Yuji grinned, his face turning a bright shade of pink. "Want to dance? Panda is trying to DJ and it’s a disaster."

"Lead the way, tiger," Yumi laughed.

She threw herself into the night. She drank sugary cocktails, she laughed loudly at Yuji’s jokes, and she danced until she was breathless. She was intentional about her movements—the way she arched her back, the way she ran a hand through her hair. She felt powerful. For the first time in months, she wasn't looking over her shoulder to see if Yuta was watching.

Except, he was.

Yuta was sitting on a couch in the corner, a glass of cider in his hand. He wasn't dressed up, save for a pair of fake vampire fangs he’d clearly been pressured into wearing by Inumaki. Beside him, Maki was talking about some new cursed tool, but Yuta’s eyes were glued to the center of the room.

He watched Yumi throw her head back and laugh as Yuji spun her around. He watched the way the corset squeezed her, the way the fishnets looked against her skin. His grip on his glass tightened.

"Okkotsu? You even listening?" Maki asked, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Yuta murmured, though his voice sounded strained. "Sorry, Maki-san. It’s just... loud in here."

"It’s a party. It’s supposed to be loud." Maki followed his gaze and stiffened. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Yumi leaning into Yuji, whispering something funny into his ear that made the boy turn red. "She’s trying too hard."

Yuta didn't respond. He couldn't. There was a strange, hot pressure building in his chest. He had always thought of Yumi as... well, Yumi. She was bright, she was loud, she was his friend. He knew she dressed up, and he’d always thought she looked "nice," but he’d tried to keep his mind focused on his training and the heavy burden of his power. He’d told himself that noticing the way her clothes fit her was a distraction he couldn't afford.

But seeing her like this, surrounded by other guys—seeing Yuji’s hands on her waist as they danced—it felt like a curse was wrapping its cold fingers around his heart.

Yumi, feeling the weight of a gaze, finally looked toward the corner. She saw Yuta. Their eyes locked for a long, heavy second. She expected him to look away, or to give her that polite, brotherly smile that always made her want to scream.

He didn't smile. His expression was dark, his pupils blown wide.

*Oh,* Yumi thought, a thrill of spiteful triumph racing through her. *So you do have eyes.*

She didn't go to him. Instead, she turned back to Yuji and grabbed his hand. "Hey, Yuji! Let's go get some more drinks. I’m parched."

"Sure thing!" Yuji chirped, oblivious to the silent war happening across the room.

The night wore on, and the alcohol began to take its toll. Yumi was feeling light-headed and pleasantly numb. She was currently leaning against a table, fanning herself with one of her bunny ears she’d pulled off.

"You're going to regret that third drink tomorrow," a voice said.

Yumi didn't need to turn around to know who it was. She took a slow sip of her drink before acknowledging him. "And you're going to regret being a wallflower all night, Yuta. It's Halloween. Live a little."

Yuta stepped into her peripheral vision. He looked different. The soft, timid boy was gone, replaced by something much more intense. "I think you've lived enough for both of us tonight."

Yumi turned to face him, leaning her hips back against the table, which only served to accentuate the curve of her body. "Are you judging me? Because you're the one wearing fake plastic teeth and sitting in the corner like a brooding gargoyle."

"I'm not judging you," Yuta said, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped closer, entering her personal space. "I just... I didn't realize you wanted this much attention."

Yumi felt a flash of genuine anger. She set her glass down with a sharp *clack*. "I don't want 'attention,' Yuta. I wanted *your* attention. For months. I wore the skirts, I did the hair, I stayed up late to talk to you after your missions. And you treated me like a younger sister you were worried would catch a cold."

She poked him in the chest, her finger landing right over his beating heart. "So don't come over here now and act like I'm the one being difficult. I'm having fun. Yuji thinks I look great. Panda thinks I look great. Even Gojo-sensei sent me a text saying I was 'killing it.' So if you don't like it, go back to Maki."

Yuta’s hand shot out, catching her wrist. He didn't squeeze hard, but the grip was firm, undeniable. The air between them suddenly felt heavy with cursed energy—not the violent kind, but the thick, suffocating kind that preceded a storm.

"Maki-san is my teammate," Yuta said quietly.

"And what am I?" Yumi challenged, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Yuta looked down at her, his gaze traveling from the red of her lips to the swell of her chest held tight by the lace, and finally down to her legs. When he looked back up, his eyes were shadowed.

"You're making it very hard for me to think of you as just a teammate right now," he admitted.

Yumi’s breath hitched. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? To break through that shell? But now that she had, the intensity of him was overwhelming. Yuta was a Special Grade for a reason; when he focused on something, the whole world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"Good," Yumi whispered, her bravado wavering just a little. "I'm tired of being a teammate."

Yuta leaned in, his face inches from hers. The scent of him—clean laundry and something metallic, like a sharpened blade—filled her senses. "You shouldn't have worn this, Yumi. People are looking at you. I don't like people looking at you."

"Is that a threat, Okkotsu?" Yumi teased, though her voice was shaky.

"It's an observation," he replied. He let go of her wrist, only to slide his hand around the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. The silk of his uniform jacket felt cool against her bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his palm.

In the background, the music was still thumping, and she could hear Nobara laughing somewhere nearby, but the rest of the party had faded into a blur.

"You've been ignoring me," Yumi accused, her hands finding their way to his shoulders.

"I was trying to be respectful," Yuta countered, his forehead resting against hers. "I thought... if I let myself look too closely, I wouldn't be able to stop. And I have a lot to work on. I didn't want to drag you into my mess."

"I'm a sorcerer, Yuta. My whole life is a mess," Yumi said, reaching up to pull the plastic fangs out of his mouth. She tossed them onto the table. "I don't need you to be perfect. I just need you to be here."

Yuta’s gaze softened, the darkness in his eyes melting into something more familiar, yet deeper. "I'm here."

He didn't wait for her to say anything else. He leaned down and captured her lips with his. It wasn't the polite, tentative kiss Yumi had imagined. It was hungry and possessive, tasting of cider and desperation. It was the kiss of a man who had been holding back for far too long.

Yumi moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled him closer, wanting to erase every inch of space between them. The corset felt even tighter now, her lungs struggling for air, but she didn't care.

When they finally broke apart, both were flushed and panting. Yuta kept his arms wrapped around her waist, his chin hooked over her shoulder as he glared over at a group of second-years who were staring. They quickly looked away.

"Does this mean you're done training with Maki for the night?" Yumi whispered into his ear.

Yuta let out a low, shaky laugh. "I think Maki-san can handle herself. Right now, I think I need to get you out of here before I lose my mind completely."

Yumi smirked, adjusting her bunny ears back onto her head. "Oh? And where are we going?"

Yuta didn't answer with words. He simply took her hand and led her toward the exit, his stride purposeful. As they passed the punch bowl, Yumi caught sight of Maki standing by the wall. The older girl watched them go, a complicated expression on her face—part annoyance, part resignation. She raised her glass in a silent, sharp salute.

Yumi leaned into Yuta’s side as they stepped out into the cool October night. The moon was high, and the shadows of the school trees danced on the stone path.

"Yuta?"

"Yeah?"

"You still think I'm going to catch a cold?"

Yuta stopped, pulling his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It was far too big for her, reaching down to her thighs and smelling deeply of him. He leaned down, kissing her nose.

"No," he said, his eyes glinting with a newfound confidence. "I'll make sure you stay warm."

Yumi smiled, her red lipstick slightly smudged, feeling more like herself than she had in months. The pining was over. The game was won. And as it turned out, the oblivious boy with the blade was a lot more dangerous than she’d ever dared to hope.