His hands found her waist, then her back, then slid decisively down the curves of her hips; he lifted her with a confident motion and she wrapped her legs around him as naturally as breathing. Two steps, three, then the short hallway: he let her fall onto the mattress with gentle precision and came down on top of her with just the right weight—enough not to crush, but to envelop.
He kissed her like a man who had made up his mind. The uncertain boy of the first times was gone; there was Yuji now—overwhelming, yet attentive to her every breath. He took her wrists in one hand, guiding them above her head as if to say trust me, then let her go free while his mouth moved down along her jawline, to her throat, to the collarbone that seemed to glow beneath the open blazer. Every spot he touched grew hotter.
"Tell me if…" he began—he said it because that's who he was.
"Go," Aiko cut him off, her breath already an invitation.
Yuji inhaled and let his hands roam: slow traces along her bare arms, a thumb sketching the curve of her breast over the fabric of the dress, an open palm returning firmly to her hips. His fingers found the zipper, felt it slide open with a faint sound. The black dress parted; Aiko lifted herself just enough for it to slip down to the floor and he looked at her for a moment—only a moment—as if he needed to imprint an image to carry with him forever.
"You're beautiful," he said. Not the way one says it just to say it, but as a truth bursting out of his mouth.
His lips returned to hers, deeper this time. One of his wrists slid to her hip, the other held her thigh with a newfound boldness; the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed tense forearms, strength turning into tenderness in his fingers. She answered him with the same hunger: her hands slipping into his shirt, between the buttons, finding the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his shoulder blades. A short moan escaped his throat and smiled—embarrassed and happy—without ever looking away from her.
"I love you," he breathed out softly, almost surprised at how simple it was to say in that moment.
"I love you, and…" he kissed the corner of her mouth, "…I want you madly."
Aiko traced her nose along his profile, tasting him the way one tastes the first peach of summer.
"Show me."
He obeyed without words. He took her by the waist and turned her beneath him, then pulled her back toward him, decisive: her knees opened just enough, her body met his with an instinct that asked no permission. His shirt hung half-unbuttoned, his breath pounding in his chest; his kisses moved lower, more careful, as though he were learning a map by heart: a slow circle in the hollow of her shoulder, a trail of kisses across her shoulder blade, a return to her neck so he wouldn't lose his way.
Yuji's hands went where they were needed—at the small of her back, to support her; on her hip, to guide; along her thigh, to ask. Every gesture said the same thing: I care for you, and I want you. When Aiko reached for his ear with her fingers, he trembled slightly; when she whispered something that was half laughter and half command, he grew even bolder.
The room closed in. Outside, the world suddenly ceased to exist: there remained only the bed, the window, their rhythm as it found and refined itself. Yuji slid a hand between them to guide—gentle and sure—while the other never left the place where he knew it made her feel strong.
Yuji aligned himself with her, his breath held, his wrists holding her waist in a clear invitation. There was a still moment, a thread between their bodies, a promise stretched tight like a string just before it vibrates.
He entered her in a single thrust, from behind. He held her arms, released them as soon as he was inside and took her breasts. He drew her closer, a soft moan escaping, his breath warm and present against her ear. Aiko tilted her head back, resting it on his shoulder. Yuji's hands slid down to her hips and he began to move slowly, with grace.
"Put your hands on the bed," Yuji whispered in her ear.
"Yes."
"Good. Now stay with me, and follow me."
A moment of silence. Then:
"You guide me," Aiko replied, moaning softly.
Yuji drew her slowly toward himself, her back against his warm chest.
"So… perfect. If you want more, tell me," he added, continuing to thrust.
"More."
Yuji smiled; Aiko could feel it halfway between her neck and her ear. "Got it."
Aiko began to tremble, happy: "Hold me tight."
He grabbed her hips and she leaned forward again.
"Tell me, go… tell me…" Yuji added, in a sensual tone, as if hearing her say it would excite him even more, beyond any possibility.
"Go… go, my love… please…" Aiko said, a short moan.
Yuji leaned forward over her, leaning into her back. He placed his palms on the bed and began to move, faster this time. He too had begun to moan softly, his chest rising and falling:
Yuji: "Ah… Aiko… you're all open… I can feel you so well..."
A brief pause. Then he continued: "I…love you. Do you feel it?"
"Yes…I feel it—all of it."
Yuji tilted his head back, moaning a little louder and increasing his speed.
He kissed her shoulder, then rose up, grabbed her hips and launched a series of fierce, almost violent thrusts. Aiko felt him enormous inside her and she arched her back to let him reach all the way inside.
"Harder... Yuji... let me feel... that you can't stop..."
He gasped, gripping her hips even tighter. "If I keep this up… I won't answer for myself…"
"It's what I want," she replied, her voice cracking but confident. "Take me all over, Yuji. Don't give me a chance."
Yuji held her hips, his fast, deep thrusts making her moan with each thrust as he reached her. His breath came in low grunts, his voice hoarse and urgent.
"Do you feel me taking you...? I can't stop, Aiko."
(with a broken sigh): "Don't stop. I want to feel every thrust... harder, Yuji. Make me yours..."
He lowered his torso, his lips almost on her shoulder, as he continued to thrust into her relentlessly.
"You're driving me crazy… you move toward me like you were made just for me."
She tilted her head, biting her lip, her voice a hot whisper.
"I am. I'm yours. Fill me up, make me lose my mind."
Yuji moaned, holding her tighter.
"I can feel you squeezing me… you're so hot… so wet…"
Aiko interrupted him with a moan, searching for words between rapid breaths.
"Split me, Yuji. Don't show mercy. I want to feel you truly possess me.
An even deeper thrust and he was lost in his own breath.
"Then scream at me that you're mine. Only mine." He said.
Yuji held her hips, the quick, deep thrusts vibrating every muscle. His breathing was ragged, his voice hoarse.
"Aiko... I can't anymore... you're holding me too tight..."
She leaned her head back, her nails scraping the table.
"Because I'm yours... only yours..."
Those words hit him like a punch in the gut. Yuji moaned, thrusting even harder.
"Say it again… tell me again…"
She moved against him, her legs shaking.
"I'm yours! All yours… take me…"
Suddenly, Aiko felt the wave surge through her body. She clenched around him, hot and uncontrollable, a wave that shook her entire body.
"Yuji! I'm… I'm cumming!!…"
Yuji felt every spasm, every contraction around him and lost control.
"Aiko... I feel you... you're so... tight... I can't take it anymore..."
He gripped her hips, one last desperate thrust, his breath catching in his throat.
"I'm cumming with you... don't leave me..." he said.
She tightened her grip, crying out his name between moans. "Yuji... yes... fill me... make me yours to the hilt..."
The pleasure washed over them both, long, endless. He held her pinned against him, trembling, as he filled her with unstoppable heat.
She fell forward, still trembling, her face wet with sweat and a smile.
(whispering sensually): "Now you can't run away... I'll take you inside me everywhere." She said.
Yuji remained there, still trembling, holding her against him as if the world might tear her away from him at any moment.
(quietly): "And I don't want to go anywhere. Ever."
***
Yuji was the first to get up, still breathing heavily. He bent to pick up his jeans, slipped them on quickly, then buttoned his shirt, still damp against his chest. Aiko, meanwhile, was fixing her hair in front of the cracked dorm mirror, trying to tame the stray strands with an elastic. She slipped back into the little dress from before, hurriedly pulled on her stockings and gave herself a quick once-over, as if to make sure that nothing of what had just happened inside could be read from the outside.
Yuji looked at her with that smile—part weary, part in love—and held out his hand. "Shall we go?"
She nodded. They opened the door together; the hallway greeted them with its usual dim light and the usual scent of detergent, which Aiko was slowly learning to grow familiar with. They hadn't taken ten steps before a voice stopped them.
"Oh, Itadori-kun!"
Hana Kurimoto approached with a light step, her hands clasped behind her back and a smile that tried to look casual. She stopped in front of them, tilting her head. "I haven't seen you in a while. Training too hard, huh?"
Yuji lowered his gaze for a moment, then lifted it again without changing his expression. He looked her straight in the eyes. "Hi." That was all he said and he kept walking.
Aiko paused just a second longer—long enough to offer a polite smile. "Hi, Hana." A cordial, measured greeting. Then she picked up her pace and caught up with him.
Hana stayed there, watching their backs, her expression no longer so light.
Outside, the evening air welcomed them with its coolness. They passed by the flea markets, the dango stalls, stopping in the side streets to share a kiss or a fleeting touch. They took the path toward the cherry blossom trees, where silence reigned—broken only by the wind stirring the branches. They stopped on a bench nearby, talked about this and that, sharing a bottle of cold water and a few distracted words. But the calm, unfortunately, didn't last.
Aiko's gaze slipped toward the clock. The minute hand tightened around her chest. She lowered her voice. "We need to go back to the dorm."
Yuji stopped. "So soon?"
She nodded, clutching the fabric of her skirt. "Yes. I have to… talk to him."
There was no need to say more. Yuji understood immediately who "him" was. A grimace cut across his face, as if the thought itself clawed at him from the inside. But he didn't ask questions, didn't seek explanations. Just a long breath and then a nod.
They walked close, so close their shoulders brushed at times. Aiko took his hand without saying a word and for a moment he seemed to stiffen. He wanted to pull away—because the thought of what was about to happen clawed at him inside—but in the end he didn't. He held her hand gently, as if to say despite everything, I'm here.
Yuji kept his gaze lowered, his brows furrowed, but the warmth of Aiko's fingers around his eased some of the weight. She, instead, kept her eyes forward, determined, even though her heart was racing far too fast to seem normal.
Their pace quickened, the signs behind them vanishing one after another. Neither of them spoke, but the silence between them wasn't empty: it was a taut thread, heavy with meaning.When they reached the dormitory, Yuji tapped his ID on the sensor. The door opened with its usual metallic beep and a sigh of warm air. Inside, the hallways stood still, with that smell of detergent that made everything feel even more suspended.
Aiko stopped. She drew a deep breath, as if to gather all her strength, then turned toward him. Her blue eyes shone with a firmness that left no room for hesitation.
"Wait for me here."
Yuji looked at her in silence, his hands clenched into fists. He didn't like it; he would never truly accept it. The thought of letting her go to him burned in his stomach. But there was something stronger than anger: the love he felt and the trust, even when it cost him.
He cleared his throat, sniffled and finally gave a small nod, wordless. Aiko offered him the faintest smile, then turned, leaving him to his shadows. Yuji stayed in the hallway even after Aiko had walked away. He heard the bathroom door close softly, then silence. A silence that gave him no rest.
He let himself slump against the wall, hands still in his pockets. He pulled out his phone, stared at it for a few seconds without knowing why, then put it away again. There were no messages to distract him, nothing that could help.
He lowered his gaze to his shoes, drawing in a deep breath. Inside, he was chaos.
"Why does she have to talk to him? Why her?"
The thought that Sukuna was there, so close—that he could look at her, speak to her, even brush against her through him—drove him mad. Every muscle was taut, as if ready to spring, to tear her out of that bathroom and never let her be alone again.
Yet, he didn't. He couldn't.
He leaned the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes. A crease cut across his forehead, his hands clenched so tightly his fingers began to tremble.
"I trust her. I trust… But how much longer can I stand this shitty feeling? It's like I'm handing the person I love over to the monster living inside me."
A tear blurred his vision before he could stop it. He wiped it away quickly with the back of his hand, furious with himself for the gesture. Then he slid down to the floor, knees bent, breath coming in ragged bursts.
He stared at the bathroom door, unmoving.
"Aiko… as long as you're here, I can endure it. But don't leave me alone here with my thoughts for too long."
The hallway carried that cold neon light on the verge of dying, flickering now and then like a blind heartbeat. The peeling paint at the corners drew senseless maps, fine cracks running up to the ceiling. Somewhere, a pipe rattled—a sharp bang, then the slow drip that followed. A stale disinfectant smell filled his nose.
Yuji forced himself to breathe, counting his heartbeats. One, two, three, four. They had taught him to do it on the worst days, when the curse inside him pressed like a fist against a door. Lengthen the exhale, keep the rhythm, don't give it space. He repeated it like a prayer without faith.