At school...
That morning, the sun was finally out, even though it was cold. The rays streamed into the classroom from the high windows, like threads of light, turning everything they touched into gold. The chatter of classmates sounded like a radio left on low—heads turning, scattered laughter—and Yuji kept his phone face down on the corner of his desk. Each vibration was like an extra heartbeat: he couldn't wait to see her again and shower her with affection.
Aiko: Did you sleep well?
Yuji: Almost... thanks to my favorite blanket-thief 😤
Aiko: I don't steal—I borrow and return with interest 😛
Yuji: Then I'll come to collect tonight.
Aiko: Only if you behave in class.
Yuji: I'm taking notes, I swear.
Aiko: Notes on what?
Yuji: On how good you looked in my shirt this morning.
Aiko: Not fair. Using last night's evidence is cheating 😉
Yuji lowered the screen, the smile lingering on his lips while his mind drifted elsewhere. The night before returned to his heart in gentle frames: blankets shifting, breaths reaching for each other, her touch, his gaze from above, the calm that followed. He hid his face in his hands to keep from blushing; outside, someone shut a window and the sound felt miles away.
On the other side of the city, Aiko was pretending to listen to the teacher, who was clicking through slides and talking about chiaroscuro; her classmates were taking notes, pencils scratching across squared notebooks. Aiko felt her phone buzz, pulled it out and smiled. Yuji's message was there, filling the screen with an endless preview.
As she bit her lower lip, a heavy fold she hadn't yet untangled suddenly pressed back on her: she hadn't told him about Sukuna, or about the pact he had proposed. That morning his face had appeared, words cold as metal spilling from his lips; Aiko had kept them to herself, never showing them to Yuji. Not out of fear, but because she wanted to choose how. The way to tell him—and it certainly wouldn't be over the phone or in a message.
Then, without really knowing why, her thoughts slipped to the back of the restaurant, to the box of souvenirs. Among photos and tickets, there was a little brass bell with a red cord, and Aiko remembered it because as a child she used to ring it until everyone laughed. She had been almost obsessed with it. The moment she pictured it hanging by the register, an idea sparked: she would use that to set the rules with Sukuna.
Thus, the sentences lined up in her mind like pencil strokes: "when I ring, you listen; I give you only one command. Don't forget to stay away from me. In return, I can offer you a small and harmless favor. If you cheat or for some reason you don't respect the pact, you'll skip the next windows for 2 days. If I cheat, you get 60 extra seconds at the next window. So, if it happens that you cheat today at 3:15, you won't appear for 2 days. One last thing: the favor can only be requested during the opening of the window. If it isn't respected, the pact dissolves."
She repeated the pact in her mind until the words became her own, stripped of ornament. The teacher asked if everything was clear; Aiko nodded, but her yes was meant for something else. She had already decided what to say that afternoon. The little bell would ring only once, and that alone would be enough to set everything back in order.
The problem, in that moment, was talking to Yuji before talking to Sukuna. With her heart in her throat, Aiko unlocked her phone under the desk, thought for a second, then wrote to him:
Aiko: Can you come by around 3 p.m? I'd like to see you after closing the restaurant.
Yuji read it between school bells and replied right away:
Yuji: Yes! 3 p.m. works fine. Should I wear a shirt? Bring flowers? Or the blankets you keep stealing?
Aiko smiled to herself.
Aiko: Just you. And... no blankets this time. We need to talk for a moment.
Then she quickly added: Nothing bad, I promise.
He agreed, though he didn't quite understand why:
Yuji: Okay, I'll be there at 3. I'll bring my brain too, so we can talk better.
Aiko: Perfect. See you later then. And bring that smile too—it's always needed.
***
At exactly three o'clock, Yuji arrived. He saw her from afar, and he was already smiling the way he always did whenever he saw her. His hair was a little messy (as usual) and that easy smile came to him the moment he saw Aiko smile.
"I'm early," he said, setting down his backpack. "Do I get a prize? Or maybe a repeat of last night's breathing lesson." He winked, far too pleased with himself, as he pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms.
Aiko gave him a sweet little kiss first, then a light elbow jab.
"In the hallway, my mom's there. If you die, it won't be at Sukuna's hands."
"Okay, okay," he laughed. "Then how about a coffee? And... maybe two kisses to go?"
She motioned for him to come closer to the register, silently. He followed her and there, hanging from a discreet little nail, was the brass bell with the red cord. The light barely brushed against it.
"Cute," Yuji said. "To call waiters, boyfriends, or trouble?" He looked at her with amusement, giving her a playful smack on the butt.
"To call rules," Aiko answered, her tone turning serious in an instant.
Yuji stopped joking. "Okay. Tell me." He straddled a chair backwards, resting his chin on the backrest, his soft eyes fixed on her.
She drew a breath. Let out a long sigh, then gathered her courage:
"This morning it happened. Sukuna appeared out of nowhere on your cheekbone and proposed a pact." She spoke softly, carefully. Yuji's face tightened.
"I didn't text you because I wanted to figure out what to answer him first. And I didn't want to do it over messages. I thought of this." She brushed her fingers against the little bell. "I'll use it as an anchor. Meaning that when I ring it, he listens and takes your place: one single, clear command. He keeps his distance—no threats, no scenes. In return, I'll grant him a small, harmless favor. If he cheats, he skips the next windows for two days. And I can only summon him once a day. The favor he asks has to be done while the window is open. Otherwise, the pact dissolves."
Yuji stared at her, unmoving.
"And why... right now?"
"Because I can't let him be the one to choose how and when to talk to me." Her words came out steady. "He said that if I care about your life, I have to strike a deal. And if I don't, he'll find a way to hurt you. He's not bluffing, Yuji. You know him." Aiko's eyes never wavered from his. "So I want to set the rules myself. Here. Today. And to do that, I need you to agree."
He swallowed, his hands flat on the wooden counter.
"So... we'll do it now. During the window."
Aiko nodded. "Soon. And I'll be the one talking to him. You stay here with me."
Yuji tried to smile. "Can I at least ask for the prize afterward? Two kisses—okay, three—for bravery?"
She took his fingers and held them tight.
"As many as you want afterward. But right now I need your 'yes'."
Yuji looked at the little bell, then at Aiko. The smile returned to his face—more serious, broader.
"Yes. I'll do as you say." He leaned in slightly, his voice low: "I trust you."
Aiko nodded once, firmly. Behind her, the clock by the register read 3:13. The little bell stayed still, waiting. Outside, a cloud covered the sun; inside, everything was clear.
***
The hour strikes. My mark flares back to life, like embers under the skin. His smile shatters on his face and becomes mine the moment I fix my gaze on her.
"What is this... superstition?" I hiss, packing the word with the thought that I could snap her in two fingers. I would take a step forward, just to taste her scent up close, but the leash of the other vow pulls my shoulder back: no closeness. Not yet.
She does not back away. She rests a finger on the cord.
"This is the only way I'll speak to you, Sukuna. I ring: you appear and carry out one order. In return, I owe you a small favor—one that harms no one. If you disobey, you skip the next windows for two days. If I don't pay within twenty-four hours, at the following window you gain sixty extra seconds. One call a day, every day. And you must ask me for the favor while the window is open. Otherwise, the pact dissolves."
It amuses me. It irritates me. It teases me. Humans have an obsession with rules: on taut ropes, they hang themselves all the better.
"You offer me obedience for a morsel of power," I sneer. "Kukuku... I accept. With one more condition: whatever we say stays between us."
The cord quivers. Ting. A sharp, clean sound. She does not flinch; she nods.
"First order: tell me if anyone—or anything—is targeting Yuji right now."
I close the eyes that are not mine, open the ones you cannot see. This den reeks of tomato, rain dragged inside, living hands. But beneath it all, something small and rancid festers.
"There is a hungry shadow clinging to a man. A regular customer. He reeks of alcohol and envy. He looks at your hands as if they were his. He has decided the boy stole something from him—something he once had and no longer does."
She nods. "Good." She looks at me the way one looks at a knife, not the way one looks at a god.
"The favor?" She asks.
I could demand your voice to speak my name. I could ask for a gaze held longer than it should be. I could take much; today I choose a smaller luxury—small luxuries forge thin chains.
"You will call me 'my king', just once. Without lowering your eyes."
A flash, almost a smile. "Granted."
I want to break that almost. See where it ends. I move as close as I can: the pact stretches me tight, like wet glass. Do I smell of hunger? Yes. Of you.
Her fingers on the cord again. Ting.
"Leave the body."
Insolent brat. Interesting.
I could refuse and lose a window—I've thrown away better. But vows are blades: I like to test their edge from both sides. And it amuses me, the way she keeps her chin high before me—trash king, that's what the blind old man would call me, if he had the guts.
"Already done?" I smile, letting the mark burn just enough to remind her I might disobey.
But I obey.
The world pulls back and I slip behind the glass again. The brat gasps for breath in fits, hand on his chest, eyes wide as saucers. "You okay?" he stammers. Cute. She says 'yes' with that calm that challenges me more than any scream. She's not lying. She honors her promise: simple, sharp, clean.
The bell stays on its hook: still, gleaming. A small thing. A sound that cuts. It is not superstition. It is a thin cord tied to my finger and I already like the way it rings.
***
That afternoon, the sky over the city was heavy with dense clouds, though it showed no sign of rain. The air felt suspended, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something.
Aiko had just come home. She had dropped her bag beside the desk and stretched out on the bed without even untying her shoes. The scent of soap still clung to her, mingling with the broth smell she had carried from the Tramonto Rosso. She tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to loosen the knots of the day, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand, just within arm's reach.
The sound wasn't any different from usual, but for Aiko it carried the weight of a call she knew well. The screen lit up, flooding the room with a cold glow, and the name appeared—the one that warmed her chest every time, even from afar: Yuji.
A smile spread across her face, wide and unstoppable. Even before opening the message, she felt her throat ease and her heart quicken just a little. Then, finally, she read it.
Yuji: Hey. This afternoon... karaoke? Just us. I promise only carefully measured embarrassment 🙂
Aiko: Karaoke? Strong temptation.
Yuji: One hour. I sing badly, you laugh a lot. My treat.
Aiko: Mmh. I already like it.
Yuji: Five o'clock? I'll come pick you up.
Aiko: Okay. But no heartbreak songs.
Yuji: I swear. But you owe me one trashy duet.
Aiko: Deal.
Yuji: P.S. You look amazing today—even through text.
Aiko: Stop or I'll show up early.
She closed the chat with a smile that lingered in her eyes. Shaking her head, she got up to head straight for the bath, when suddenly the pact with Sukuna came back to her—the harsh words, "if you care about that brat's life..." Aiko had listened, weighed those words and decided on her own conditions.
Then, Sukuna's words came back to her clearly again, as if written on glass: There's a small grudge walking behind him. It clings to a man. A regular customer. He reeks of alcohol and envy.
Aiko froze for a moment, her hands suspended. But who?
"Let's hope for the best..." she thought.
After a long bath and after slipping into jeans with a light shirt and a black jacket, she pulled on her boots, packed her bag with her phone, keys, wallet and headed out to the street.
A message arrived just as she zipped her bag closed.
Yuji: Love, I'm leaving now. Ten minutes and I'm downstairs.
Aiko: Perfect. I'll be waiting.
Yuji was already waiting below her building, wearing an open black jacket that revealed a pink hoodie, slim black jeans, a waist bag and hands far too restless to look calm. The moment he saw her, his posture faltered; he rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed with that shade of pink so typical of him.
"Hi," he said, raising a hand and then lowering it right away, as if he'd changed his mind halfway through. "You... you look amazing."
Aiko walked past him with a half-smile. "I know. You, on the other hand, are cute when you turn into a tomato. But I love you for that too."
She leaned closer, on tiptoe, and kissed him softly on the lips.
Yuji coughed, redder than ever. "I don't blus—okay, maybe a little." Then he gathered his courage and held out his hand to her. "Shall we?"
He took her hand without hesitation, smiling. They walked toward the subway with that pace that had already become a habit, talking about this and that, sharing even their worries. The wind from the escalator lifted strands of hair and thoughts; the turnstiles beeped in chorus, and he quickened his step to hold the gate for her as if it were a heavy door.
On the train, sitting side by side, Yuji looked at her and then at the ads on the walls, as if they could teach him how to say the right thing. He was nervous—Aiko noticed and squeezed his fingers.
"Breathe. This isn't an exam, okay? It's karaoke."
"Yes, but with you it's like the national finals," he murmured, biting his lip when he realized he'd said it out loud. He felt restless, until he gathered his courage again and spoke:
"Can I... ask you something?" Yuji said, squeezing her hand.
She shrugged, then looked him in the eyes with a smile. "Of course, go ahead, shoot."
Yuji turned toward her, even with his whole body.
"How do you feel... about the pact with Sukuna? Ever since you talked to him... you seem a little thoughtful."
At every turn he leaned closer, then straightened back up, wrestling with his embarrassment. Aiko looked down, breathing slowly, then lifted her gaze again and looked him straight in the eyes:
"I won't deny... that I trembled a little while talking to him. I don't know, I feel this strange sensation inside me... like something bad is about to happen. And on top of that, he added one more condition: that the things we say to each other must stay between us," Aiko confessed, shifting her gaze to Yuji's neck.
"I still don't like this—not one bit. And have you had nightmares? Stomach aches? I can get you water, medicine... just tell me how you're feeling physically too, okay?"
"Yes, I've had negative thoughts, that's true. Physically I feel fairly well, except for a bit of tiredness," Aiko admitted honestly. "But then I thought of you breaking down complicated things with your 'okay, let's do it this way'... and it settled."
Yuji smiled, shyly. "Okay, then let's do this way: if he ever crosses the line, I'll be there. I'll never let anyone hurt you. Even at the cost of my life." It wasn't bravado; it was his simple, genuine way of making a promise.
Aiko stared at him. "At the cost of your life?" she asked, astonished.
"Of course," he replied, his tone steady. "You're my family. And because of that, I'll have to protect you until the end."
Aiko squeezed his hand tightly, tighter than before. Then she rested her head against his chest, biting her lower lip. Yuji's face had turned crimson, but he felt truly happy.