Chapter Text
Yuuji was dreaming again.
Hot sand slipped through his fingers as his hands scrabbled for purchase against the ground. He struggled to rise to his feet, the glare from an unseen sun hitting him right in the eyes. His surroundings were so goddamn bright, from the never-ending plains of sand to the painfully vibrant blue sky overhead. His vision was violently washed out in the gleaming sunlight. It hurt to keep his eyes open. Each lungful of air he took in was dry and sharp, burning at the inside of his throat.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Yuuji called out. As expected, he was met with no response, and the dull roar of distant winds he could hear but not feel.
Fuck . He stumbled onto his knees again and made no attempt to get up. All he could do was stare at his dry, cracked hands, splayed out against the coarse dust. Yuuji wiped at the sweat stinging his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath.
“I‘m alone,” He whispered to himself. His chest ached, his head pounded, and everything was spinning.
Somehow, Yuuji always ends up back here.
This barren, blinding wasteland was all that was left for him. A too-bright, endless chasm of nothing, a void of a mindscape. It's a desert in drought, and Yuuji was the fool stranded all by himself.
He choked back another sob. “Oh God, I‘m so alone -”
“Oh, shut up already,” Another voice called out.
Yuuji wrenched his head upwards. There was no one else in sight. And then—
It started as a mere dot on the horizon, rapidly approaching faster and faster, shape shifting the closer it got to him. A mass of darkness sluiced across the desert like a smear of ink on a clean white canvas. Yuuji could only gape as the writhing form drew closer and closer, till it was close enough to touch.
The other boy was made of shadows. He had to have been, with the way he commanded the pure black void around him. The shadows streamed out behind like water, curled around his limbs like ribbons, radiated off of him like waves. He half-ran, half-slid on top of the shifting gloom, much like how Yuuji used to slide across hardwood floors in socks as a child. The darkness pooled around him, the pitch black rippling like a tear in Yuuji’s pale white dessert. He knows that the absence of light has always been associated with evil, but Yuuji can’t bring himself to feel anything but a sudden peace, the deep shadows a welcome relief from his blinding surroundings.
The shadows seemed to morph and take temporary form as they moved, shifting from the maw of a great serpent to the hindlegs of a dog, the wings of some large bird, and inexplicably, hundreds of tiny mammals.
Shadow Bunnies? Yuuji rubbed his eyes blearily, watching a little rabbit form at the edge of the cloud and hop along for a moment, before dissolving back into the inky miasma. This has to be some sort of dehydration hallucination.
The boy at the center of the darkness seemed normal enough. He was tall and lean, with a mop of messy black hair so dark it seemed to blend into the void around him. It contrasted against his pale skin, delicate collar bones disappearing under the dark blue uniform he was wearing. He strode forward to some unknown destination across the sandy plains with a measured sort of determination, hardly flinching at the shadows surrounding him like they were the most natural thing in the world.
When his eyes met Yuuji’s, they were unflinchingly calm. Shadow Boy’s cool, decisive gaze seemed to cut right through him, laying him bare on the sand.
Yuuji stared back, mesmerized, the shifting hues of Shadow Boy’s irises almost as alluring as the flowing darkness around him.
Yuuji stared as Shadow Boy passed him by. He stared so hard that he barely registered that Shadow Boy had started to speak.
“You aren’t alone,” Shadow-boy said as he glided past. He pumped his arms for extra speed like a figure skater, the shadows snapping to his command.
Yuuji sat back on his haunches, fists balled up on his lap. “Huh?” He responded intelligently.
Shadow Boy shoots ahead, but he turns to meet Yuuji’s eyes once more. The wind whips through his hair, somehow mussing it up more than before. His expression was perfectly blank, like he was strolling through a school hallway instead of tearing a black hole through Yuuji’s existence. A single lock of hair sticks to the corner of his mouth. Any and all logical thoughts promptly exit Yuuji’s brain.
“You’re not alone,” Shadow Boy repeats. He turns his head forward. “You’re just having some sort of idiotic dream,” The darkness warped around him fully, shooting him off into the distance even faster than before.
“A dream?” Yuuji echoed, watching Shadow Boy disappear into the horizon. There was a dull ringing noise in the back of his brain, growing louder with each passing second.
“If this is a dream, can we make out ? ”
Yuuji woke with a start. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, and swung at his alarm clock. The stupid thing bounced off of the wall and continued to ring, except now Yuuji would have to get up and walk over to turn it off. But not even the obnoxious sound of the alarm could drown out the thunderous noise of his own brain.
He gasped for air, which was mercifully cool. Yuuji’s shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his shoulders. He had, in fact, been dreaming. The sight of green-blue eyes meeting his own replayed again and again in his thoughts.
Yuuji dropped his head into his hands and resisted the urge to scream.
I saw him again, he thought to himself amid the pounding of his heart.
The boy from my dreams. I saw him again.
This time, Yuuji was running.
He’s not exactly sure what he’s running from, but he knows for certain whatever it is, he can’t let it catch him.
The worst part is that he was running up stairs . Yuuji grunts as he grabs onto the scuffed yellow handrail to swing himself around the landing onto the next flight of steps. A fluorescent exit sign flickers above him, casting a dim green light over his immediate surroundings as he barrels forwards. Below the crumbling concrete stairs he’s currently on, lies a complete void of nothing . It swallows up all the flights he’s already run up, the sound of a woman’s humming echoing from the shadowy depths.
Yuuji grits his teeth and wills his legs to move faster. He keeps climbing.
He sprints an unknowable amount of floors, thighs burning from the extersion and his heart jackrabbiting as he rounds every turn. The humming gets louder, buzzing at the back of Yuuji’s skull like a migraine. The darkness below him continues to swell.
Finally, Yuuji spies a red door at the top of the final flight of stairs. With a panicked wheeze, he pushes through, leaving the swelling gloom behind him.
He stumbles out onto what looks like the flat roof of an apartment building. Gravel crunches beneath his sneakers, and the wind buffets his face.
Above him, a storm rages.
The sky is tinged pink as dark clouds whirl around the epicenter right over Yuuji’s head. All around, things are being ripped off the ground by violent gales. Yuuji counts several streetlights, cars and chunks of buildings being tossed through the air like crumpled newspaper. He ducks to avoid a stray stop sign from nearly decapitating him.
Yuuji raises his head and gasps.
Amongst all the swirling chaos and the roar of the hurricane, sticking out like a sore thumb, stands a figure clouded in shadow on the very edge of the roof. Yuuji can’t see his face, but he knows with absolute certainty who this intruder is.
He’s here again .
The building beneath him shakes .
“Hey!” Yuuji calls out, cupping his hands to make his voice heard. “Get down from there! It’s dangerous with the storm — ”
His cries are cut off by a giant billboard crashing through the space between them. Yuuji skids back, and by the time the billboard has been carried away again by the vortex, Shadow Boy has turned his head. Yuuji can’t stop his eyes from darting all over the other boy’s pale skin, or at the way his hands lift slightly at his sides, like a bird about to take flight. Just like last time, he’s surrounded by a flowing mantle of darkness.
“Oh, good,” He says, his voice somehow completely audible despite the din. “I was wondering where you were,”
Yuuji’s brain oscillates wildly from omg he was thinking about me!!! to whatthefuck is going on why is he here again how is here again —
“Honestly, you have some pretty strange dreams,” Shadow Boy continues. “And a dream hardly ever makes sense without its dreamer,”
“How- Why -?” Yuuji chokes out. He pushes through the torrential wind, stepping closer to where Shadow Boy is standing on the ledge. “Why do you keep coming here?” He manages. Why do you keep coming back to me ?
“Why?” Shadow Boy angles his head in thought. The wind rakes through his hair, ruffling it across his severe features. Yuuji’s heart is now pounding for an entirely different set of reasons, at least five of those being the endearing way Shadow Boy’s brow furrows when he’s deep in thought. Thunder and lightning crackle in the distance, in time with the drum beat in Yuuji’s chest.
“Well this route is much more convenient than the others, to start,” Shadow Boy responds with a low hum. “But I doubt you’d understand what I mean,”
He’s right; Yuuji doesn’t understand. Yuuji doesn’t even want to ask about why the center of a category five hurricane would be preferable to literally anything else.
He can’t fathom why this impossibility of a boy would keep returning to the pure chaos of Yuuji’s mind.
Shadow Boy shakes his head fondly at Yuuji’s bewildered expression. He glances out over their disastrous surroundings, at the sheer devastation rushing around them at hundreds of miles an hour. His gaze returns to Yuuji. Their eyes meet.
“The view isn’t so bad either,”
Butterflies explode low in Yuuji's gut and cluster up his throat. His face feels unnaturally warm, and all he can focus on is the boy before him, standing in the eye of the storm without a care in the world.
“Hold on a second!” Yuuji steps forward.
Shadow Boy shakes his head and turns. “By the way, you should pay attention in class more,” The darkness around him engulfs his limbs.
He steps off the ledge.
“No!” Yuuji cries. He rushes over, his chest slamming against the railing as he peers over the side of the building. But there’s no sign of Shadow Boy, just more debris being blown around.
Yuuji has about half a second to consider whatever the fuck he’s just witnessed when something beams him over the side of his head, and his whole body wrenches back —
“ Itadori Yuuji, wake up this instant !”
Yuuji jerks awake so hard his knee bangs against his desk.
Gone was the catastrophic storm, the shaking apartment building and the mysterious boy — instead, he was seated in the back row of a classroom, his teacher giving him a filthy look as he rubbed his eyes. The sound of his classmates' laughter grates against his freshly-conscious mind. Next to him, Yuuji’s seatmate sighs and sinks lower into her chair.
Shit, did I fall asleep during class ?
“Since Itadori thinks his nap time is more important than the lecture,” His teacher continues, pushing up his glasses while the rest of the class continues to giggle. “I think he should tell us the answer to the question I put up on the board,”
Yuuji swallows, pushing back his chair and standing up. His eyes are still adjusting to the bright lights of the classroom, and he can feel the imprint of his notebook on his cheek from where he was laying his head. Embarrassingly, there’s a trail of dried drool on his chin which Yuuji furtively tries to swipe at he peers at the mess of characters on the board. It’s hard to figure out what exactly the question is asking when a.) Yuuji hasn’t been paying attention for the past forty minutes, and b.) his brain is still replaying the moment where Shadow Boy’s eyes locked onto his own in a loop.
“Uh, the answer is, um-” Yuuji glances down at whatever notes he’s managed to take before dozing off; he’s met with a bunch of incoherent scribbles and drool stains.
“Is it… Forty-seven?” He guesses.
The class erupts into laughter again. “A valiant effort, Itadori,” His teacher responds dryly. “But this is history class, not math. Sit down and come see me after the lesson,”
Yuuji drops back down into his seat, cheeks burning. His classmate’s excitement dies down as the teacher turns around to continue his lecture. Yuuji’s seatmate clears her throat and taps at the note she’s scrawled at the top of Yuuji’s notebook.
Sorry, I tried to wake you before the teacher noticed :(
Yuuji picks up his pencil and quickly writes a response underneath.
It’s ok, it was worth it.
His seatmate shoots him a quizzical look, before returning her attention to the lesson. Yuuji hardly pays her any mind.
The view isn’t too bad either.
Yuuji wipes off his sweaty palms on his slacks and tries to hide a grin in the fabric of his hoodie.
Oh man, he is screwed .
Here’s the thing. Yuuji Itadori is totally, one-hundred percent straight. Reoccurring dreams of boys who glide through the darkness notwithstanding.
He tells himself this as he nails his shot-put throw, the heavy metal ball embedding itself soundly in the frame of a goal cage. He lets himself whoop in delight, letting any lingering thoughts of his Shadow Boy dissipate in favor of walking towards his friends, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie.
He would not let himself think about how Shadow Boy had been popping in and out of his dreams sporadically for the last 2 months or so, sometimes sparing a quick quip or glance in his direction. He would not think about how last class period marked the third time in a row Shadow Boy had appeared in his sleep recently. And he definitely would not be thinking about how hard his heart had beat at the sight of him, how he searched for his face in gloomy corners during every waking hour, how he went to bed hoping for a glimpse of the other boy in every dream.
He’s not real! Yuuji internally screamed, as his upperclassmen on the Occult club waved him over. Get over yourself!
“Seriously, Itadori,” Sasaki grinned at him. “We wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to join a sports team or something. You sure you’re cool kicking it with us?”
“Of course!” Yuuji responded. “You guys let me go home way earlier than all the other clubs anyways. Besides, who’d you take with you to all the haunted locations if I wasn’t around?”
His fellow club members, Iguchi and Sasaki, laughed good-naturedly. It was true that Yuuji was an athletic beast who could dominate at any sport he tried, but he felt better suited to this type of stuff: helping his friends out with the things they were passionate about.
“Speaking of haunted things,” Iguchi stuck out his hand expectantly. “Did you grab the cursed object?”
“Oh yeah,” Yuuji pulled out the slim wooden box from his backpack and placed it onto Iguchi’s waiting palm. “Is this thing really cursed and shit? It looks like a normal pencil case to me,”
“That’s what tonight’s for!” Sasaki exclaimed, positively vibrating with excitement. “We’ll open it up in the clubroom and-” Her phone beeped suddenly, and she looked down in confusion. She flipped her case open, before cursing violently under her breath. She shoved her phone under Iguchi’s nose. He read off her screen and cursed as well.
“Did something happen?” Yuuji asked.
“My friend texted me,” Sasaki explained. “Freakin’ Mr. Yoshida is assigning a pop quiz on the readings he gave us-”
“-Which we did not do. Like, at all,” Iguchi shook his head mournfully while Sasaki angrily tugged her hair, rapidly tapping away on her phone.
“Ugh, I hate English Lit— Itadori, would you be alright with us doing the unsealing tomorrow night? I really can’t afford to fail another one of these tests,”
“Don’t even worry about it, guys!” Yuuji replied quickly. “I was going to head home after this anyways. Your grades come first!”
Iguchi and Sasaki exchanged a glance before sighing in unison. “Thanks, Itadori,” Sasaki thumped him on the shoulder soundly. “I‘ll text you when we reschedule the date,”
“Sure thing! Good luck on the quiz!” He waved as his friends headed towards the bus stop outside the school gates, before turning back to the athletic fields.
He had some time to kill before dropping in at the hospital — maybe he could grab a bite to eat? No, Yuuji needed to save some money to pick up his flowers on his way over. His stomach grumbled in protest. Something from the vending machine would have to suffice. He fished through his jean pockets for loose change, changing his course down to where the vending machines were propped up against the school walls.
Yuuji was desperately trying to smooth out a crumpled 1000-yen bill, when he saw him .
There, leaning down to retrieve a can of soda from one of the school’s broken-down vending machines, looking normal as could be, was the boy from his dreams.
Yuuji nearly trips over his own two feet.
He almost didn’t recognize the other boy without his signature sheath of nebulous shadows surrounding him. His outfit was different too; instead of his usual navy getup, he was wearing a standard white button-down and black slacks. With his rumpled hair and slight slouch, he could’ve passed for most kids at Yuuji’s highschool.
But as he rose from the ground, Yuuji caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were the same ever-shifting shade of blue-green that had been stalking his subconscious for the past few months. There was no mistaking him — the boy that Yuuji had thought was just a figment of his imagination was currently picking a fight with a vending machine.
Yuuji’s vision seemed to tunnel as he watched the boy from his dreams kick the side of the poor machine a few times, frowning with his hands shoved moodliy into the pockets of his slacks. Everything else seemed to fade into white noise as Shadow Boy pounds on the smudged front of the vending machine with an open palm, oblivious to Yuuji's presence yards behind him, elegant even in frustration. A soda can finally falls with a mechanical thud, and Shadow Boy bends down to retrieve it. He walks around to the side of the machine and leans against the concrete, all cool and casual and normal , like his very existence wasn’t ruining Yuuji’s life. His hair looks even more outrageous in real life.
The snap of the soda tab sends Yuuji reeling back to his senses. He glances down at the 1000 yen bill, crumpled once again in his fisted hand. Oh yeah. I was going to get something to drink.
He glances up again. Shadow Boy didn’t seem to be moving from his spot next to the vending machine anytime soon. Mind made up, Yuuji inhaled deep and took a step forward.
It’s totally fine, Yuuji, his brain helpfully supplies as he walks forward. Just because he looks like the guy you see every night when you fall asleep, doesn’t mean you have to be nervous or anything. You probably just saw him in passing around school, and then your subconscious just started manifesting him into all your dreams. For some reason. Yeah, just because he’s really cool-looking and attractive and whatever, doesn’t mean you have to be nervous .
Also you’re straight, so you have no reason to be worried anyways.
Shut up, brain.
Yuuji shoves in his bill and punches some buttons at random, fighting the urge to glance to his right. Shadow Boy makes no move to acknowledge his presence. Yuuji fishes out his soda and straightens. He pops the top and takes a sip, grimacing at the taste. Orange. Gross. Remember to breathe, Yuuji. He takes a step to the right.
“Um, hey,” He says, and immediately regrets it. His mouth must’ve been acting independently of his brain, because he has no clue what the fuck he’s doing.
Shadow Boy looks up from the ginger ale he was nursing, meeting Yuuji’s gaze. His eyes widen, then narrow imperceptibly. “Hey,” he responds. He takes another swig of his drink, never breaking eye contact. Yuuji’s heart flutters against his ribcage like a bird attempting to take flight.
“Can I- Um, can I stand here?” He asks.
Shadow Boy shrugs, finally dropping his gaze. “I mean, I don’t own the wall,”
That's not a no.
“Cool,” Yuuji leans against the concrete next to him, about a foot of space between both of their shoulders. Shadow Boy keeps his eyes trained on his drink. Yuuji tries for a friendly smile. Spiritually, he’s on fire.
They’re both silent for a moment, sipping on their respective beverages. Yuuji stares straight ahead at the still bustling athletic field, not looking over at the person next to him. He assumes Shadow Boy does the same.
“Have you ever heard about the Human Earthworm franchise?” Yuuji asks. Oh god, what the fuck am I saying —
“Uh, no, I don’t think I have,” Shadow Boy turns his head sideways to face him, but keeps his eyes cast downwards on the sweating soda can in his grip. For the first time, Yuuji takes notice of Shadow Boy’s fingers; they’re long and pale, slightly reddened around the knuckles and littered with faint scars. God, even his hands are fucking attractive .
And because Yuuji’s brain can’t process this information, his jaw unhinges and he keeps fucking talking-
“So basically, it’s this horror movie franchise about this guy who does experiments on humans to turn them into, like, mutant earthworm-fusion monsters. The first movie was absolute garbage, with horrible effects and cheap scares. The third one was pretty shitty too, but the second one actually revealed a lot of potential for the deeper themes at the core of the central plot. Anyways, the fourth movie in the franchise is coming out soon, and they brought in a whole new director and SFX team, so the vibe is going to be totally different, you know? Hopefully they’ll dive deeper into the true meaning of the Human Earthworm franchise, which was Love all along!”
Yuuji breaks off for air and glances nervously to his side. Dream boy is still looking down at his drink, intently tracing one finger around the rim of the can. No reaction.
“Maybe… you’re not into horror films,” Yuuji finishes, focusing on the half empty can of soda clutched between his own fingers. It feels clammy against his damp palms. “Or movies at all,”
“Movies are okay,”
Yuuji snaps his head sideways so fast he almost gets whiplash. Shadow Boy still isn’t looking at him, but there’s an almost-smile playing across his features, the barest tug at the corner of his mouth. He takes another small sip before continuing.
“Horror’s not really my genre, but I still like watching movies from time to time, if I‘m not busy. Mostly nature documentaries, though,”
And man, does Yuuji like the sound of his voice. No matter the context, Shadow Boy always speaks in a calm, low cadence. It cuts through the constant buzzing of Yuuji’s overactive brain, steady and smooth, the deep timbre slicing through it’s droning surroundings like a lighthouse beam carving through a blustery storm, and Yuuji is the wayward sailor, drawn into his easy tone like a moth to a flame. So yeah, he really likes Shadow Boy’s voice, loves it, even —
“Are you real?” Yuuji blurts out. It’s probably a stupid thing to ask, but in all honesty he feels like he’s been hallucinating ever since he stepped off the soccer field, so he allows himself this one, grounding, question.
Shadow Boy pauses, and turns to look at Yuuji fully. His eyes widen and his brow furrows into an all-too familiar expression. Yuuji wants to smooth out the crease on his forehead with his thumb. Or melt into the cracks in the sidewalk below. Either was preferable.
“Did you just ask me if I‘m real?”
Definitely a stupid question, then.
Time to retreat. “Huh! No, I was- Um, asking someone else okaythanksbye!” Yuuji sprints ahead, back the way he came, across the pavement, up the steps, and through the athletic fields, eyes focused on the campus exit and definitely not looking back to see if Shadow Boy was watching him. Still, he can feel Shadow Boy’s stare burn at the back of his neck, even when he turned round some bushes and dipped out of sight.
For once, Yuuji wished he was actually dreaming. That this whole, embarrassing encounter was just another imagined scene from his subconscious, and Shadow Boy was the one who was intruding on his peace of mind.
Yuuji dropped his now squashed soda can into a nearby trash bin, checking the time on his phone. Not only had he made a complete fool of himself, he was also late to pick up his order from the florist.
Sighing as shoved his phone back into his pocket, Yuuji picked up from his nervous gait to a full on sprint, out the school gates and into the bustling streets of Sendai. He pinched the skin on his wrist for good measure. A sharp jolt of pain shot up his arm.
Definitely still awake! His brain responded.
Thanks for nothing, brain.
Most of Yuuji’s dreams are actually pretty normal.
Most dreams, he doesn’t even realize he’s dreaming.
This time around, he’s playing baseball.
“Alright guys, listen up!” Yuuji butts heads with Iguchi and Sasaki as the three of them do a group huddle. They’re all decked out in mismatched uniforms that Yuuji’s middle school team used to wear, which is odd considering they were gathered on the highschool’s baseball diamond. The thought dissolves as soon as it forms, and Yuuji plows on like usual.
“I know that Coach Takagi’s team has us beat in strength, experience, and pretty much every other quality, but we’ve got heart!” Iguchi and Sasaki nod enthusiastically, causing all three of their heads to knock together. Yuuji sneaks a glance at their competitors across the field. Coach Takagi was reigning court over his team of weirdly buff athletes, all of them hyped and ready to play. Also, all of them had a bright orange traffic cone resting on their shoulders in lieu of a normal head. For some reason.
Yuuji shook his own (non-traffic cone, thankfully) head and returned his gaze to his teammates. “Let’s give this game everything we’ve got, and prove that the Occult Club rules supreme!” He cheers, hefting his bat into the air. It’s bright pink, covered in green stars, and Yuuji doesn’t really remember picking it up, but he waves it around regardless.
“Let’s do this!” Sasaki cheers, running onto the field. Instead of a bat, she’s got a massive chainsaw strapped to one arm. Iguchi runs out to join her, deftly wielding a six-foot long plastic arrow sign as his chosen baseball apparatus. Yuuji grins and sprints to his position as the whistle blows.
As it turns out, none of them need their chosen baseball bats because the Occult Club is fielding first. Yuuji takes his stance on the pitcher’s mound, while Sasaki runs to the barrier, and Iguchi to first base.
All of Takagi’s players are good, but Yuuji is simply better. He doesn’t think he’s ever played baseball before, but he finds it surprisingly easy, as he whips his leg up and releases a lightning fast curveball.
“STRIKE! BATTER OUT!”
Yuuji pumps his fist as his teammates whoop in delight. Coach Takagi fumes in the dugout, actual steam pouring out of the top of his traffic cone/head.
“Do it again, Itadori!” Iguchi tosses him the ball with a smile.
“Will do!” Yuuji cheers. Playing in this game felt amazing . His surroundings felt electric and bright, like someone turned the saturation all the way up. The air was warm and scented with longing, drenched in the type of nostalgia unique to childhood. Everything was a little staticky at the edges, like a color-graded episode of your favorite anime rerun. Yuuji was swept away in the fervent excitement, the feeling of scraped knees and muddied cheeks, a forgiving, endless summer with friends.
He pitches six more balls in quick succession, each one a strike.
“AMAZING! YUUJI ITADORI HAS PITCHED A NO-TOUCH GAME!!”
Yuuji laughs and turns to wave to the people in the bleachers, everyone screaming themselves hoarse. Was there a crowd watching this whole time?
“Good work, guys!” Yuuji runs back to the dugout to regroup with his teammates. Sasaki was jumping up and down so hard her glasses were bouncing with excitement, and Iguchi busted out some cool spin moves with his giant sign. “It’s our turn to bat now,”
Coach Takagi seems less than thrilled. “I‘ll get you for this, Itadori Yuuji!” He yells in frustration as he stalks up to the pitcher's mound. “You and your little friends too!”
Yuuji and his teammates watch in horror as Takagi began a series of increasingly energetic stretches.
“Itadori,” Iguchi whispers. “You’re our only hope left,”
“Me?!”
“It’s true,” Sasaki inserts. “You’re the only one who can handle a pitch from the Coach. The fate of this match depends on you,”
“In that case, I‘ll do my very best!” Yuuji amends. There might be a chorus of angels singing behind him — He’s not too sure.
Yuuji heads out to home plate. He puts on a bit of a show, tapping his bat against the plate, squaring his shoulders, lining up his hips for the perfect angle. He waves and flexes his arms a little for the crowd's benefit, basking in their loud admiration. A group of faceless cheerleaders chant his name, and Coach Takagi’s traffic cone head angrily swivels around on his neck.
Yuuji takes a practice swing; perfect as usual. He watches as Takagi rears back, ready to unleash a brutal fastball.
I‘m gonna get a homerun, Yuuji thinks to himself. Smiling, he watches the ball draw closer and closer. I‘m gonna get us a homerun and win the whole game.
Yuuji lets his gaze drift for a moment, and that’s when he sees it.
A void of black shadows at the edge of the field.
There's no way-
“STRIKE ONE!”
Coach Takagi gloats loudly while the crowd erupts, but Yuuji barely processes any of it as his eyes track the boy that just arrived.
He walks along the otherside of the chain link fence surrounding the field, distant yet unmistakable. He dips out of sight for a moment as he passes under the bleachers, before reappearing on the other end, looping around closer and closer to home plate.
He’s not gliding or running like he usually is; instead, Shadow Boy walks towards him, leisurely trailing a hand across the rickety metal fence. Still, his shadows undulate around him, a deep darkness cloaking his every movement. With his dark uniform and darker hair, he nearly disappears into the shadows altogether, save for a pale sliver of neck here, a flash of bony wrist there. Just like every other goddamn time he’s seen him, Yuuji is mesmerized.
He holds his breath as Shadow Boy draws close, practically standing beside him on home plate, separated only by the railing. The metal creaks as he leans on the fence, hooking his fingers through the loops. He’s close enough that Yuuji can see his overcast eyes tracking his every move as the shadows surrounding him snap and crackle.
Another ball whips past him, narrowly missing his head.
“STRIKE TWO!!”
The colors start to fade out, the feeling of nostalgia slipping away like the last days of summer. The only thing that stands out now is Shadow Boy.
Yuuji feels like an idiot, standing over home plate in an imaginary game, wearing a ridiculous outfit and making a fool of himself in front of the guy of his dreams, again. His knuckles whiten around his bat.
“I‘m dreaming, aren’t I?” He asks.
Shadow Boy cocks his head to the side; the darkness around him writhes.
“Good call,” He responds. “Also, you should probably duck,”
“Huh?”
The next thing Yuuji feels is a baseball colliding with his skull.
“STRIKE THREE!! YOU’RE OUT!!!”
Yuuji’s head snaps to his side and his whole body spins on his heel, like he was some sort of cartoon character. Ears ringing, he flops on his back with a resounding thud.
Glaring up at the vibrant blue sky, Yuuji questions his entire existence. Awareness washes over him, and he can taste blood at the back of his throat.
He blinks once, and suddenly Shadow boy is hovering over him, hands stuffed into his uniform pockets. How he jumped the fence in such a short time, Yuuji doesn’t know. But he supposes boys who can command darkness and walk the line of dreams and reality don’t really need to follow the rules of conventional logic.
Shadow boy is staring down at him so intensely Yuuji is tempted to cover his eyes with the back of his palm, if only to hide his bruised face. He’s laying on the ground like a moron, covered in sweat and grime, while Shadow boy looms above, unfairly gorgeous despite his annoyed expression.
“Do you remember me?”
It takes Yuuji a moment to recall how to form coherent sentences. Wow, his eyelashes are long holy shit I‘ve been staring I‘ve been quiet too long shitshitshitfuckinghell-
“What do you mean?” He rasps. Shadow Boy frowns, and Yuuji flushes under his scrutinizing gaze.
Shadow Boy looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. The shadows surrounding him flutter nervously. He teases his lower lip between his teeth. Yuuji can’t look away.
“I‘m asking if you recognize me at all,” Shadow Boy spits out. “You know. Like outside of all this?” He looks down at Yuuji with a grimace, as if it’s paining him to be asking this question. As if it’s paining him to be asking Yuuji.
“How could I ever forget someone like you?” Yuuji mumbles, dazed. Maybe that baseball hit him harder than he thought.
Shadow Boy jerks back like he’s been burned. He stumbles a little, and Yuuji wonders if he said the wrong thing.
“Hey, are you alright?”
“I think it’s time you wake up now, Yuuji Itadori,” The shadows start to whirl around Shadow boy as he wraps his arms around himself and turns away.
“No, no wait- '' Yuuji's hand shoots upwards, but it's no use. The shadows engulf the other boy fully, and Yuuji catches one last glimpse of green eyes—
“No!”
Suddenly he’s grabbing at air, and blinking blearily up at his bedroom ceiling. He’s back in his room, blanket kicked off onto the floor among the scattered manga volumes, sunlight streaming through his smudged windows.
Yuuji lets his outstretched arm drop, lets his alarm ring, and ring, and ring.
“Shit, shit, shit- ”
He saw him again. Definitely, undisputedly, saw the same guy in his dreams that he saw by the vending machines. The boy of his dreams. His dream boy. The phrase might be starting to take on a new meeting.
The posters of bikini-clad women on his walls suddenly seem taunting. Now whenever he closes his eyes he sees long fingers and eyelashes for miles.
Okay, maybe I‘m not straight , Yuuji thinks. But I‘m definitely not hallucinating.
He rolls over and smushes his face into his pillows, trying to drown out the incessant ringing of the alarm clock. He thinks of flashing eyes, and miniscule smiles, scarred fingers, a darkness that flows like water. He thinks of a calm, steady presence, soothing even when absolutely nothing else makes any fucking sense-
He’s-
He’s getting to the bottom of this. No matter what.
Yuuji sprints down the school’s hallway, calling out apologies as he shoves through the crowd. Normally he’d take his time getting to class, but today he was a man with a mission.
Two flights of stairs and a quick turn past the teacher’s lounge later, Yuuji was slamming open the Occult Club’s room door.
“Sasaki! Iguchi! I need to talk to you guys!”
The two upperclassmen looked up from their very serious game of solitaire they had spread out over several desks. The tiny wooden box that Yuuji had scavenged from the thermometer shed was currently being used as a paperweight for some math worksheets that were dutifully being ignored.
“You good, Itadori? You seem kinda stressed,” Iguchi asked, setting down the cards he was holding.
“I‘m fine!” Yuuji squeaks out. He’s a little breathless from his sprint, and this seems to worry his friends more. “I just- I need your guys’s help with something,”
His upperclassmen exchange another glance. “Is it… paranormal related?” Sasaki fidgeted with her glasses the way she normally does when faced with a particularly interesting case.
“Yes!” Yuuji responded enthusiastically. “I mean- sort of. Kinda. Maybe. I don’t know, it’s complicated,” He frantically claws for the folded piece of paper in his pocket and quickly unfolds it before brandishing it for all to see. “Have you guys ever seen a kid around here with hair like this?”
His clubmates leaned in to get a better look.
“What the hell?”
“Is that a sea urchin or something?”
“What? No!” Yuuji yelps, scandalized. “It’s a hairstyle! It’s all pointy, see!” He hadn’t been able to capture Dream Boy’s long lashes and sharp features with his limited art skills, so he’d opted for sketching out a quick drawing of Dream Boy’s hair. It was wild, spikey, and definitely his most memorable feature.
Iguchi and Sasaki just looked at him like he was crazy. It’s the same look Yuuji’s been giving himself in the mirror every morning for weeks now.
“Look, maybe we can be more helpful if we had more context?” Sasaki asked.
Yuuji sighed as he sidestepped the pile of coats tossed onto the floor, and plopped down on the chair Iguchi had pulled out for him. He gave them the rundown.
Five minutes and several questions later, his friends seemed much more curious than concerned.
“So you’ve been seeing this guy in your dreams repeatedly? And then you saw him in person? And you’re sure you’ve never seen him before?” Sasaki asked.
“I never saw him anywhere until the dreams started,” Itadori explained, toying with his hoodie strings. “I thought that maybe you guys might recognize him, if he went to our school or something. You’ve been here way longer than I have,”
Iguchi picks up Yuuji’s crappy drawing and peers at it closely. Sasaki scoots over and does the same. Yuuji is eternally grateful that his friends “investigate” enough weird shit that they don’t bat an eye at his insane problem. If anything, they seem kind of excited.
“Yeah no, there’s no kid that looks like this who attends our school,” Iguchi places the drawing back onto the desk, and Yuuji tugs it back with a groan.
“Great, it’s a dead end then. Thanks for your help guys, but I don’t think there’s anything else-” The rest of his sentence dies in his mouth as he watches Sasaki flip open her computer and Iguchi pull out his phone.
“You said you saw him near the school yard the other day?” Sasaki asks, gazing at him over the top of her screen.
“Yeah, he was by the vending machines,”
Sasaki grunts and starts frantically typing on her keyboard. Iguchi swipes on his phone with equal vigor. All Itadori can do is watch in confusion.
Hardly two minutes pass before Iguchi perks up. “I got his Instagram,”
“Found his LinkedIn profile,” Sasaki chirps.
“Found his Facebook handle,”
“Found his old apartment on Zillow,”
The two of them high five aggressively. Yuuji gapes.
“What the fuck ?”
Iguchi flips his phone at him, waggling his eyebrows. “This the boy of your dreams?”
Yuuji can’t even comment on the phrasing, because the boy in the photo is undeniably his .
It’s a blurry selfie, taken by an older looking man with bright white hair and dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Slightly behind him, moodily sipping on his drink, was Dream Boy. He was looking away from the camera, but his clothes were exactly the same, and he was holding the same can of off-brand ginger ale. The slight pout playing across his features was so familiar it made Yuuji’s chest ache.
“Yeah,” He whispered reverently. “That’s definitely him,”
“That picture was taken yesterday, at the kobeni down the street,” Iguchi tapped on the tagged account to show Yuuji. It was a small profile, with about five followers and a few faceless pictures posted, but the username was distinct.
“His name is Fushiguro Megumi,” Iguchi explained.
“Megumi…” Yuuji whispered to himself, getting used to the feel of the words in his mouth. Blessing.
“He’s lived in Tokyo up until recently,” Sasaki joined in.
“He’s from the city!” Yuuji interjected.
“All his clothes seem to be from fancy brands,” Iguchi noted.
“He’s rich!”
“He attends an exclusive, private school up in the mountains, some place by the name of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School” Sasaki reads off her screen.
“He’s rich and he’s smart,” Itadori sighs.
Sasaki furrows her brow as she taps something out on her keypad. “The school he attends is kinda odd. It’s listed as a religious institute, but it has a weird association with several unsolved cases and recent public safety incidents. In fact, several people speculate that the school might have something to do with… the paranormal,”
A chill settled over the cramped clubroom.
“So like… you’re saying he’s a ghostbuster?” Yuuji asked.
“I‘m thinking he’s more like a wizard or something,” Sasaki replied, adjusting her glasses.
“Don’t tell me you guys actually believe this stuff right? It’s just some theory that was posted on a conspiracy forum,”
“We’re literally the Occult Club,” Sasaki deadpanned. “It’s our job to believe in this kinda stuff,”
Yuuji nodded in agreement. It made sense if Shadow Boy — if Megumi — had something to do with the paranormal. It certainly explained how he’d been hopping in and out of his dreams.
Iguchi leaned over to get a better look at Sasaki’s screen. “If this is 4chan article is to believed, Itadori’s Dream Boy would technically be an exorcist, not a wizard,”
“What’s that?”
“Someone who deals with spirits,” Sasaki explains. “Spirits, haunted places, and cursed objects…”
All three of them looked down at the inconspicuous wooden box that Yuuji had retrieved earlier. Something clicked in Yuuji’s brain.
“The same day I found the box was the same day I saw him at the vending machines…”
He glanced up at his friends, hands twitching.
Sasaki slammed her hand on top of the little box. “Itadori Yuuji!” She yelled. “I forbid you from using this very rare and very mysterious and probably cursed object to try and see your Dream boy again!”
Sasaki was fast but Itadori was faster. He swiped the box out from right beneath her fingers and bolted out the door.
“Thanks Sasaki, Thanks Iguchi! You guys are the best!” He called out behind him. Sasaki’s screams of frustration followed him out into the hall.
Yuuji grinned and stuffed the box into his pocket. Finally, he had a plan.