"I hate you " "dont say that please.."

The rain hammered against the windows of the small apartment, a rhythmic, oppressive sound that filled the gaps between their jagged breaths. Inside, the air was thick with the kind of tension that felt like it might snap and draw blood.

Toge Inumaki stood by the kitchen table, his fingers curled tightly around the edge of the wood. His high collar was unzipped, revealing the intricate black markings of the Snake and Fangs that curled around the corners of his mouth and stretched across his tongue. Usually, he kept them hidden, a physical barrier between his dangerous power and the world he loved. But tonight, the barrier had already crumbled.

Across from him stood Hana, her chest heaving, her eyes bright with a mixture of exhaustion and a fury that had been simmering for weeks. The life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was a constant shadow over their relationship—the long absences, the injuries he couldn't explain, and the silence that his technique forced upon him.

"I can't do this anymore, Toge!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "I’m tired of guessing what you’re thinking. I’m tired of waiting for a phone call that might never come because you’re bleeding out in some alleyway I’m not allowed to know about!"

Toge’s throat constricted. He wanted to tell her that he did it to keep her safe. He wanted to explain that every curse he exorcised was a step toward a world where she could walk freely. But the words were trapped behind the seal of his lineage. If he spoke his heart, he risked shattering her world in a much more literal sense.

"Salmon," he whispered softly, his eyes pleading. *I’m sorry.*

"Don't do that!" Hana snapped, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Don't hide behind the rice ball ingredients. Not tonight. I need a partner, Toge, not a weapon that stays in a case until it's needed."

She stepped back, her shadow stretching long and distorted across the floorboards. The frustration that had been building like a storm finally broke.

"I’m done. I’m so tired of loving someone who can’t even tell me he loves me back without risking my life. Honestly? Right now, I hate you."

The words hit him harder than any cursed spirit ever could. It wasn't just the sentiment; it was the finality in her tone. The air seemed to leave the room. Toge felt a sharp, physical sting in his chest, a coldness that spread from his heart to his fingertips.

He had faced Special Grade curses without flinching. He had pushed his vocal cords until they bled and his throat was raw. But those three words—*I hate you*—were a curse he didn't know how to break.

Hana turned away, reaching for her coat on the chair, her movements jerky and determined. She was leaving. The realization panicked him, overriding the discipline he had practiced since he was a child.

"Please love, you don't mean that," he said.

The voice was his own, yet it wasn't. It was the Cursed Speech—low, resonant, and vibrating with the weight of his soul. He didn't use the command tone, the sharp "Sleep" or "Blast away" that he used in combat. This was soft, a desperate plea wrapped in the power of his bloodline.

Hana froze. Her hand stopped inches from her jacket. The air in the room shimmered, the invisible pressure of his technique settling over her shoulders like a heavy shroud.

She didn't turn around immediately. Her shoulders shook, and then she slowly pivoted to face him. Her eyes were wide, the pupils blown with the shock of the sudden magical compulsion.

"Did you just..." She whispered, her voice trembling. "Did you just use your speech on me?"

Toge’s heart plummeted. He hadn't meant to command her feelings, but with him, intent and words were a dangerous mix. He took a frantic step forward, reaching out a hand, then pulling it back as if he might burn her.

"Bonito flakes," he choked out, his voice already rasping. The strain of using "normal" words, especially words so heavy with emotion, was already taking its toll. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"You can't do that," Hana said, her voice rising in a mix of horror and heartbreak. "You can't force me to stay. You can't force me to feel something just because you're afraid of the silence!"

Toge shook his head vigorously, his violet eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He grabbed a notepad from the counter, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped the pen. He scribbled frantically and held it up.

*I didn't mean to command you. I just wanted you to hear me. Please.*

"I hear you, Toge! That's the problem!" Hana cried, tears finally spilling over. "I hear the things you don't say every single day. I hear the danger and the secrets. And now I hear you trying to control how I feel about you?"

Toge dropped the notepad. The blood was flowing more freely now, staining his chin. He ignored the burning sensation in his throat, the feeling of needles pricking his vocal cords. He couldn't let her leave thinking he was a monster who would bind her heart with a curse.

He stepped into her space, closing the distance until he could smell the rain on her skin and the faint scent of her shampoo. He didn't use his speech this time. He simply took her hands in his. They were cold, and she tried to pull away, but he held on with a gentle, stubborn strength.

He pointed to his chest, then to her, and then he made a crushing motion with his hand over his heart.

*It hurts.*

Hana looked at his blood-stained lips, the markings that defined his life, and the raw vulnerability in his gaze. The anger didn't vanish, but the sharp edge of it softened into a dull ache.

"It hurts me too," she whispered, her forehead dropping to rest against his shoulder. "It hurts to love someone who is a walking secret."

Toge wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. He was a sorcerer of the Inumaki clan; he was meant to be a weapon, a silent guardian. But in this moment, he was just a boy who was terrified of losing the only thing that made the world feel human.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. He knew he shouldn't speak. Every word was a gamble, a potential injury to himself or a forced command on her. But some things couldn't be written on a notepad.

"I... love... you," he rasped.

The words were jagged, scraping against his throat like broken glass. He winced, a sharp cough racking his frame, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth.

"Toge, stop! Don't!" Hana grabbed his face, her thumbs wiping away the blood on his lip. "You're hurting yourself. Stop it."

He managed a weak, pained smile. He shook his head, leaning into her touch. He wanted to tell her that the physical pain was nothing compared to the thought of her hating him. He wanted to tell her that his silence wasn't a choice, but his love for her was the only choice he had ever truly made for himself.

"Mustard leaf," he murmured, his voice barely a breath. *Stay.*

It wasn't a command. It was a question.

Hana looked at him for a long time, the silence of the apartment no longer feeling like a vacuum, but like a space they were sharing. She saw the cost of those three words in the blood on his chin and the exhaustion in his eyes. He had broken his own rules, risked his own safety, just to bridge the gap between them.

"You're an idiot," she whispered, though she didn't pull away. She reached for a napkin on the table and gently began to clean the marks on his face. "A stubborn, quiet, dangerous idiot."

Toge leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes. He felt the tension leave her body, replaced by a weary resignation that was far better than the cold fire of "I hate you."

"Tuna," he breathed, the word a soft vibration against her skin. *Thank you.*

"I don't hate you," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I just hate that I can't protect you the way you try to protect me. I hate that the world wants to turn you into a tool."

Toge tightened his grip, pulling her into the small circle of safety they had created in the middle of the storm. He knew this didn't fix everything. The curses would still be there tomorrow. The missions would still come. The silence would still be his constant companion.

But as the rain continued to beat against the glass, Toge realized that sometimes, the most powerful thing he could do wasn't to speak a command, but to simply be there, letting the silence say everything he couldn't.

He reached for his cough syrup on the counter, the small bottle a grim reminder of his reality. Hana took it from him, unscrewing the cap and handing it to him with a look that said they would talk more—with pens and paper, with gestures and glances—when the sting of the night had faded.

Toge drank the medicine, the soothing liquid coating his ruined throat. He looked at Hana, who was now hanging her coat back up, her movements slow and tired.

He walked over to her, taking her hand again. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. He just squeezed her fingers, a simple, silent promise.

Hana squeezed back. "No more Cursed Speech on me, Toge. Promise? Even if I’m screaming at you. Even if I say things I don't mean."

Toge nodded solemnly. "Salmon."

"Good." She leaned in, kissing his cheek, right over the fang marking. "Let’s go to bed. We’re both exhausted."

As they walked toward the bedroom, Toge felt the weight in his chest lift, replaced by a quiet warmth. He was a man of few words, and most of them were dangerous. But in the quiet of their home, he didn't need a technique to be understood. He just needed her.

The silence wasn't a wall tonight. It was a bridge. And as he pulled the covers up, listening to the rain fade into a steady drizzle, Toge Inumaki finally let go of the words he had been holding onto, content to let his presence speak for him. He was loved, and for a sorcerer whose voice could level buildings, that was the only truth that mattered.