The restaurant was breathing softly, in that suspended moment before the rush. From the dining room came only the faint hum of the refrigerators and the distant clink of a glass being put away, but if you stepped into the kitchen you could feel the air was alive: steam from the fumes clouding the tiles, the metal of the utensils catching the outside light, knives drumming on the cutting boards like drumsticks, keeping time with the radio crackling in the background.
Aiko bent down by the counter, slipping her hands into a box that had just arrived. The smell of cardboard and dried spices tickled her nose, but she liked it. Between sacks of rice and bottles of soy sauce, she found something carefully wrapped in layers of rough paper at the bottom. She unwrapped it slowly, her fingers tracing under the surface of the round, smooth shape of the ceramic.
When the last sheet fell to the floor, a plump tanuki looked her in the eyes, its grin far too wide and sly to stay still there. Its glossy glaze reflected the kitchen lights and for an instant Aiko wondered who could have ordered it and why.
"Cute… and creepy," she murmured, wiping it down with the cloth she had slung over her shoulder.
She took two photos — front and back — and a third with the figurine propped up near the register, between the chopsticks and a little brass bell.
Aiko: Guess who just showed up at the restaurant: "Tanuki Trouble – souvenir edition." Should I keep it or exorcise it with the POS?
Yuji's phone buzzed in the dojo locker room. He had just finished shadow drills, cold sweat clinging in the air smelling of disinfectant. He looked at the photos, zoomed in on the grin.
Yuji: Keep it away from the kitchen. And from Nobara. And from Gojo-sensei. Actually, from anyone who knows how to laugh like that.
Aiko: Too late. I know how to laugh like that. (photo: Aiko mimicking the tanuki's face, half her tongue sticking out)
Yuji laughed to himself. He ran his fingers over his wrist, where the night before Aiko had drawn the memory-line. The mark was gone, but his skin still felt warm.
Yuji: Okay, I give up. Tonight, after closing… come with me to the dorm. I'll take you to my room. (They taught me: you're supposed to ask with "please.")
Please.
Pause. The hood's drone filled the silence. Aiko read the message twice. She felt her heartbeat shift, the kind of rhythm that had nothing to do with long shifts.
Aiko: Is this the part where I pretend to think about it, or the one where I just say "yes" right away?
Yuji: The one where you say "only if you make the tea."
Aiko: Then yes. But I'm bringing the cookies (not expired).
Yuji: And I'll bring myself, which is the most important part.
She smiled at the screen, then at the tanuki. She moved it onto a shelf, away from the heat and set her inner clock ticking for service. When the doors opened, the noise rose a notch: water in the cups traced small, meaningless circles; a candle blew out on its own and relit as if it had caught its breath. Aiko righted it all in a heartbeat — a gesture, a word — like soothing children who just want attention.
Now and then she photographed the figurine from different angles, more play than anything else and sent them to him.
Aiko: (photo from below, tanuki against the ceiling) It's giving you the evil eye.
Yuji: I'll glare back worse when I get there.
Aiko: No brawls in my restaurant. At most, we'll put it to work washing dishes.
The evening rush hit like a wave. Aiko held the dining room together the way you hold a blanket from slipping off the edges: a quick quip for the couple at table three, a kindness for the woman seated in the back, two orders shouted toward the kitchen and a bill stamped on the fly. Between steaming plates arriving and glasses chiming, every buzz of her phone was a small return to him.
Yuji, training finished, had stayed seated on the steps outside the dojo. The cool air brushed against skin still warm with sweat. On his phone, he wrote and erased three lines in a row, biting the inside of his cheek. Then he found the right ones:
Yuji: Easy evening, I promise. No Gojo-sensei, no curses, no noise. Just us. (If you'd like. If not, we'll eat cookies and talk. But I… want you close.)
The message arrived while Aiko was moving from one table to another. She read it on the fly, without slowing her pace, but felt the words slip inside her like a long, deep breath.
Aiko: Yes. Like that. "Just us" is enough for me.
They closed late that night. The last glasses rang hollow as they were put back in place, the register gave its farewell click. Aiko washed her hands longer than necessary, as if she wanted to rinse away the steam of the dishwasher still clinging to her. She took the figurine, sealed it in a box, and wrote on top with a marker: "Maybe not."
Outside, Yuji was waiting with his hood up. The rain was fine, almost courteous.
"Tanuki's in time-out," she said, holding up the box.
"I'll take it away tomorrow," he replied, taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers.
"Not today?"
"Today I want to take you away."
They walked close, hand in hand, hearts in turmoil and soft smiles on their lips. The distant buzz of a scooter, the synchronized steps, their fingers intertwined. They didn't talk much: the important words had already passed through the phone. Now there was only the steady rhythm of their footsteps and the warmth of each other's presence.
At the entrance of the institute they climbed the stairway in silence. Aiko kept looking around, but often her gaze darted back to Yuji, as if to make sure he was really there. Every detail felt sharper: the way his hood brushed his cheek, his calm breath, the shadow stretching long beside his own.
The gate recognized Yuji's ID with a lazy beep. Inside, the hallway smelled of detergent and silence, a blend of fresh laundry and damp wood. Closed doors, a lukewarm neon light flickering now and then.
Yuji's room was simple: a bed with a crumpled coverlet, a desk with a couple of books lying open, a slightly crooked poster on the wall and a cactus in a chipped pot that seemed to survive more out of stubbornness than care.
"It's not big," Yuji said, shy with a tenderness that almost embarrassed him.
"Better. That way I don't get lost," she answered, sitting on the desk.
Then she moved closer to the cactus. "Is it alive?"
"Yes. I think. It's a survivor."
"Like us."
Yuji set the water to boil for tea. Aiko stood, noiselessly, slipped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades. He placed his hands over hers, with the same care one lays on a talisman.
"First of all," she said softly, "thank you for the 'Done.'"
"First of all," he replied, "thank you for the 'Yes.'"
They drew apart just enough to truly see each other. The kettle's steam added another layer of gentle noise.
"If you change your mind, if you're tired, if you just want to talk…" Yuji began.
Aiko laid a finger lightly on his lips. "I know. And because I know, I won't change my mind."
She turned toward the small shelves just above the bed. There were a few great classics of literature, but also some manga.
"No way! I can't believe it! You really have this?" she asked, pointing at the first volume of Jujutsu Kaisen.
"Of course I do," he answered, proud. "I have all of them!." And he smiled.
She picked up "volume one." She opened it.
"Do you mind if I… read a few pages?"
"Not at all… I'll just finish making the tea…"
He turned away. Poured the boiling water into the cups. Rested his palms on the little table, as if waiting for something. Then turned back to her. And he watched her.
Aiko was seated on the desk, her legs swinging slowly back and forth. Her head tilted slightly to the left, one hand resting on the wooden surface, the other holding the open manga. Her blue eyes, intense even in the half-light, raced quickly from line to line, lit faintly by the warm glow of the lamp.
Yuji approached in silence, his steps barely audible on the floor. When he stood before her, he paused a moment, his gaze drifting from her focused face down to the line of her legs. Then he took half a step closer, into the space between them and placed his hands on her hips, feeling the warmth through the fabric.
"Keep… reading…" he whispered in her ear.
She let out a low moan, her neck bending even further to offer him space. Yuji accepted the invitation and began filling that delicate curve with hungry kisses, hot and ever closer to the exposed skin.
He moved against her, their contact separated only by the fabric of his pants. Aiko clearly felt him getting aroused, growing bigger and her breathing quickened.
"Do you want to stay... sitting here?" he asked, fixing her with that intense gaze Aiko knew well. She nodded slightly, holding her breath.
Yuji approached from the side, his body brushing against hers. His fingers reached the waistband of her pants and slowly undid them, sliding beneath the fabric with a heat that made her close her eyes. Aiko moved slowly, following his touch, and a moan escaped her, unable to hold it back.
"Aiko… you… you drive me crazy…" he whispered in her ear, his voice low and vibrant, as he continued to explore her every reaction.
"Yuji…" she whispered, her voice fractured by emotion.
She wanted him with every part of herself.
"Keep reading…" he said, almost as if it were a plea.
His fingers moved slowly over her vulva, barely touching it, as if he wanted to savor the moment. Aiko moved her hips beneath him, a slight shudder growing with each touch. Yuji leaned toward her and began kissing her neck with soft, small kisses, leaving the warmth of his mouth on her skin.
His index finger traced circular motions on her clit, slow and steady, while Aiko let out low, irregular moans, her breathing becoming increasingly shallow. With his other hand, Yuji caressed her breasts, following the contours of her body and sought her eyes, as if reading every nuance of pleasure.
Then, with a careful gesture, he pulled down her black jeans along with the thin fabric that accompanied them. He stood there, looking at her, now exposed from the waist down, her bare skin contrasting with her white socks and an anklet that caught the light.
"Please... keep reading..." he told her, still whispering. Then he spread her legs, gently opened her vulva with his fingers, and moved his mouth between her thighs. With his tongue, he drew small circles, increasingly rapid, over her clitoris.
"Ah… Yuji…" She ran a hand through his soft hair. Then she grabbed him by the head and pulled him toward her, still moaning with pleasure. She had just turned the manga page
"Shhh... don't get distracted..." he said, listening to the sound of the paper. Then he returned between her legs.
"My God... I could fuck her all the time..." he thought, without saying it out loud.
Aiko moaned softly, moving her hips in time with the movements of his tongue. She arched her back, occasionally trembling, panting. Her legs buckled. As she continued reading.
Then she heard the metallic clank of Yuji's belt opening, and the zipper going down.
She spread her legs to welcome him, tilting her head back and letting his hair caress her buttocks. He had penetrated her. All in, right to the bottom. Aiko lay down on the table, completely. She was wide open, right there before him. He moved toward her decisively, moving closer until he felt her fully against him.
Yuji let out a long moan, his eyes widening. She was too narrow and small to accommodate something so large. He was fucking her slowly at first. He stood before her, straight. She lay on the table, her manga open and her legs spread wide. Yuji stroked her hair from above her breasts, sometimes holding her ankles to push deeper, he looked at her body, her blue eyes intent on reading...
He touched her everywhere. As if to make sure she was there and real. In reality, she couldn't read a single word. She was pretending, occasionally looking up to meet his eyes. Every now and then, a moan would escape her, louder and her head would fall back, letting the sensation of him so close overwhelm her.