Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sukuna supposes it was only a matter of time before it happened. It only makes sense that he would get less than a week of peace before everything goes awry once more.

Life has a funny way of taking away any bones it throws him. Just like that, he swears he’s tossed back into the storm, tumultuous as it allows him no time to recover after each blow. As if the walk he’s currently on isn’t enough of an incoming storm as it is, given that they’re on the way to the kids’ school for the first time since he got them back. Not to mention that fucking journalist is only a few steps behind him and he’s had to shield Choso from the lens pointed their way with his leather jacket while Yuji clings to his shoulders. And damn it that’s his nice leather jacket that keeps dragging on the ground.

But you have his only coat aside from a winter one, so this was his only option.

With Yuji safely tucked in one arm, he stares down at his texts with a disgruntled expression as the storm darkens, tossing thunder into the mix.

8:12 AM Princess || Hey

8:12 AM Princess || I got a message from the school’s financial aid office :(

He types out a quick ‘they give any details?’ with one hand before shoving his phone back in the pocket of his slacks and letting out an exasperated huff. Choso peers up uncertainly at him, but any question he may have dies when the journalist takes the opportunity to jog to catch up to Sukuna and begin throwing questions his way.

“Mr. Sukuna, is something going on? Are Noritoshi and Kaori Kamo-”

Something in him snaps before he can stop it. Caution thrown to the wind, he whips around with a fiery snarl, imposing even with his two kid brothers stuck to him like glue.

“You don’t have any right-”

“Kuna,” Choso pleads at his side, ducking his head behind his brother as he tugs on his arm.

His voice- small at best and measly at worst- just barely manages to bring Sukuna back down from his fury. With another huff, he reigns in his anger and speeds up his pace towards the kids’ school. He has half a mind to call someone if it means that he can prevent this nosy paparazzi asshole from finding the kids’ school, but he figures he can lose her by hopping a fence.

Making strategic turns down two off-the-beaten-path alleys, he reaches a fence that leads into a park that he’s well aware requires payment to enter, but can’t bring himself to give a shit. He lifts Choso up high enough to sit atop the fence, shifting Yuji to sit on his shoulders so he can carefully make his way up the chainlink fence, raising his arms up to grab Choso on the other side.

Separated by the chainlink, Sukuna shoots the journalist a nasty glare. “You could learn a thing or two about privacy,” he snarls, taking note that her camera is facing the ground.

“You asked for this life when you spoke up. This is my job.”

“Nah, I didn’t,” he scoffs, turning away from her to continue towards the school, taking a somewhat scenic route. “And I don’t care.”

Left in the dust, he doesn’t hear her reply if she utters one. Sukuna sighs, leading the way through fields of green as he navigates a long route to the school.

“Kuna?” Choso murmurs, peering back at the fence.

“Mm?” He hums as he pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at a notification from you before giving his attention back to his little brother.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

“It’s fine, Cho. That journalist doesn’t need to know where you go to school,” he replies, mild irritation towards the journalist clinging to his tone.

“Oh… But…” The little boy clings harder to the straps of his backpacks. “The sign said ‘no trespassing’.”

Sighing heavily, Sukuna eyes him. “I know. Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

Choso’s brow furrows as he turns his attention to the ground in front of him. “But you’re always breaking rules, not just sometimes,” he mutters under his breath, as though he’s not quite sure this is one of those times.

Shooting the little boy a scowl, Sukuna grunts in disapproval. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” he grumbles, unwilling to argue with the kid. He knows it’s not the response that Choso’s looking for, but when Sukuna sees more rules as suggestions than the average person, he’s not exactly the one who should be explaining it in the first place.

Turning his attention back to the notification on his screen, he pulls up your message, frowning as self-condemnation brews deep within. That storm just won’t let him go, its clouds always casting a shadow over him. It’s one of the many feelings he can’t seem to shake now that you’ve grown so close. In truth, he’s not sure there will ever come a day where he feels he doesn’t owe you. You’ve done more than he could ever dare to ask of anyone, and then some.

Given that you usually try to keep him out of information surrounding your scholarship for this exact reason, he figures you must be pretty upset about it. Worried, at the very least.

8:14 AM Princess || They didn’t say anything in the message, just that they need me to show up today at eleven

8:15 AM Princess || Fingers crossed it’s nothing but one day before finals is so stressful haha

8:17 AM Princess || Pleasepleaseplease don’t blame yourself though!! It’s not your fault Kuna

Cute. But also too late.

He sighs, about to type out a response when Yuji points at the phoen screen from behind his head, asking if that’s you with his limited reading skills.

“Mhmm,” Sukuna hums as he types out a reply, hitting send on each message.

8:20 AM Sukuna || still sorry

8:20 AM Sukuna || you dont deserve that

8:21 AM Sukuna || let me know how it goes

“Is she your girlfriend, Kuna?”

Simultaneously dreading whatever nonsense is about to be yapped in his ear while his heart flutters at the thought of calling you his, he sighs. “No, Yuji.”

“Do you like her?”

“Yeah.”

“But she’s not your girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Dragging a hand over his face in exasperation, Sukuna blinks and stares down at his phone as more messages pop up from you. “Uh-” he waves a hand uselessly through the air, the early summer breeze warm on his skin as the sun rises over the horizon. “It’s complicated. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He turns his attention to his phone, only to be dragged back to reality when his little brother sitting atop his shoulders tugs on his shirt collar.

“The hell, Yu?” He hisses.

“You said that to Cho, too!” He insists, upset.

“Yeah, well it’s true,” the eldest brother grumbles. “Life’s tough. You two will figure it out when you’re my age.”

“But that’s gonna be foreveeeeer!” Yuji groans. “You’re so old.”

With a deadpan expression, Sukuna stops cold in his tracks. “That’s it. You’re walking.” He lifts Yuji from his shoulders as the little boy whines and complains the whole time, tugging on Sukuna’s slacks as he pleads and pleads and pleads to be back up on his shoulders. “Shoulda thought about that before you called me old, you little brat,” Sukuna growls, returning his attention once more to his messages.

He still has a chorus of complaints in the background, choosing to ignore them.

8:23 AM Princess || I promise it’s not your fault, I can figure something out!!

8:23 AM Princess || Maybe I’ll take out a loan or something

8:24 AM Princess || I might be able to talk to someone about getting the fees waived given the situation?

Grimacing, he lifts his gaze to his surroundings, taking a gradual turn back towards the fence where the school lies a few blocks in wait. He takes the opportunity to think over a reply as he helps his brothers get over the fence before hopping over himself.

His only reply is still measly at best, though.

8:28 AM Sukuna || sorry

He drops the hand holding his phone to his side, staring blankly ahead of him. If he were even an inch better with words, he might not sound so pathetic.

Lifting his arm, he lets his thumbs hover over the keyboard, but he still comes up blank.

8:29 AM Sukuna || im sure theyll listen

Pushing a hand through his hair, he stares uselessly at the message, lost on the words to comfort you.

8:29 AM Princess || I hope so! I’ll figure it out though, don’t worry

8:30 AM Princess || Did you find anything about a therapist for Choso?

8:30 AM Sukuna || yeah

8:31 AM Sukuna || found a clinic that specializes in kids mental health

8:31 AM Sukuna || they got him in for a trial or something next week

8:31 AM Sukuna || gonna talk to his school about the other shit today though

You reply immediately, and he lets out something between a huff and a laugh from his nose.

8:32 AM Princess || Oh no, does that include talking to his teacher?

8:32 AM Sukuna || oh no is right

8:33 AM Sukuna || shes lucky this is their designated school cause i didnt want him back here

8:34 AM Princess || I’m sure it’ll be okay! Good luck Kuna!

Something of a smile breaks through his aloof demeanor as he sends a quick ‘thanks princess’ before tossing his phone back in his pocket. As much as he’d love to contemplate ways to help you, his attention is split two ways as he makes his way to the kids’ school.

On his way up the stairs leading to the front of the school, he takes notice of the small patter of footsteps behind him lessening. Yuji is still at his side, but Choso has slowed to a halt behind him.

Turning to face the little boy, Sukuna examines his shrinking form. He’s not about to force his brother to do something he doesn’t want to do, but school isn’t exactly optional and Sukuna can’t homeschool him. There’s barely even any time left this year, maybe a week or two if Sukuna’s calculations are correct.

Sighing, the brute takes a seat on the concrete step beneath him, draping his long arms over his knees. “You uh… Wanna talk?”

Choso blinks, somewhat taken aback by his brother’s offer. He glances down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers. Hesitantly, he makes his way up the stairs until he’s almost at eye level with his older brother.

“I know I’m not good at understanding, but I can listen,” he offers.

Sheepishly, Choso nods and lifts his gaze from his worn black sneakers. “Okay,” he accedes quietly as Yuji pays next to no attention, hanging off of Sukuna’s arm like it’s a playground as he curiously observes his surroundings.

Leaving the floor open for discussion, Sukuna keeps a stoic expression, remaining calm as Choso organizes his thoughts. The boy’s sneakers scuff the ground, kicking pebbles left and right as he scowls at the movement of rocks as though they’ve smited him.

Damn. He does scowl like Sukuna.

“What if you don’t come back?” The little boy whispers, not daring to look his brother in the eye.

Which is… fair, given his brother’s reply.

“You make it sound like I’m going to war.”

The little boy’s gaze finally raises to meet Sukuna’s with a grumpy little frown, and he realizes his mistake.

“My bad. Go ahead.”

Choso shuffles again, staring back down at his feet with a broad frown. “I don’t know,” he mumbles under his breath, sniffling. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Sukuna argues firmly, crimson irises fixated on the way his brother uncertainly peers up at him. Sighing, Sukuna adjusts his legs as Yuji continues to wander back and forth and hang off of either of his biceps. “Look,” he mutters, leaning forward with bent elbows on his knees. “I know how it feels,” he hesitantly begins, tearing the words from where they choke him at the maw. “To be scared.”

As they both quietly examine one another, a silent understanding takes place. Two brothers who don’t really get one another, divided by a generation and then some, but they both try. They bend to help one another, even if it leaves space for breaking, but they pick one another up too. It doesn’t thrill Sukuna that his kid brother has stepped in for him at his lowest, but he can’t change the past. So he’ll simply change the future.

“Has that happened before the time in the courtroom?” Sukuna queries. “The breathing thing?” He offers, referring to Choso’s panic attack while trying to keep his terms broad so as not to scare his brother.

“A couple of times,” Choso admits, scarcely able to face the ex-history major as he shamefully hides his quickly blurring eyes.

“When’d it start?”

“At Kaori’s,” Choso murmurs.

Sukuna averts his gaze. He honestly expected Choso to say that it began when their dad passed. He put the kid through so much by virtue of simply being around someone who lost their will to go on for a period of time that some part of him always thought the kid just kept that side of himself hidden. Like somewhere in the recesses of the room he shared with Yuji, stifled sobs and gasps for air were a common occurrence. He’d let that thought fester in his mind for so long that he’d grown scared to face the truth.

He hates to see it manifesting in his brother at all, but he’s glad he can say he’s here for his brother this time around. He’s not left wondering and scared of confronting the thought.

“Started for me when dad died,” Sukuna admits, his hands still as he stares down at them. “It sucks. I didn’t really have anyone to lean on with dad gone,” he admits, the words damn-near choking him as they come out strangled. He swallows the sour sensation at the back of his throat like a bag of rocks, settling uneasily in his stomach. “That ain’t happening for you though, alright? You’ve got that little brat,” he points at Yuji who’s huddled over a small puddle at the edge of the stairs, before adding that he’s also got you and him in his corner. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Choso’s eyes glimmer under the early sun, tears stagnant in his waterline, yet to be shed. “What if something happens when I’m at school?”

“To me?” Sukuna lifts a brow questioningly.

The brunette boy nods, his gaze flickering up to the new scar brandishing Sukuna’s forehead.

Shit. He hadn’t thought his dumbass blunder would come back to bite him in the ass quite like this. The scabbing of the wound is nearly completely healed, leaving behind a pale line extending quite high up his forehead. He supposes maybe a bit of fear on his behalf is warranted at this point.

He sighs, mindlessly brushing his knuckle over the paled skin. “This about this, yeah?”

Choso shrugs. “No. Kinda. I don’t know,” he mutters, shrugging again. He wipes at his tears with the back of his hand before they can fall, his hair cascading down to hide his face.

Quietly, the man observes his little brother’s movements. The way he shuffles every so often and lets his gaze flicker up to the new marking on Sukuna’s face, the way he averts his gaze as though he blames himself. Where Yuji is nothing like him but clearly related by blood, he supposes Choso is the exact opposite.

“Do ya wanna know what happened?”

Will it make Choso feel better? Sukuna has no clue. It might even make things worse, but as far as he sees it, it’s honesty or his little brother simply refusing to go to school, so… he’ll take the former.

The little boy doesn’t seem so sure himself, contemplating the question for a long while. The silence is steady, grounding for two brothers with much left unsaid after years of refusing to communicate. Sukuna had made an effort to talk over why and how he failed the trial and how he got them back, but everything had been so emotional the last week that the details of what the brothers went through with Kaori and what Sukuna went through alone had slipped through the cracks.

And in truth, there’s no chance he tells them he crashed hard and drowned his sorrows at some shitty bar.

“Okay,” Choso murmurs decidedly.

Leaning back on the stair behind him, Sukuna lets out a steady puff of air. “I was at the auto shop and I’d been working so much to get money for the lawyer that shit just slipped through the cracks,” he speaks as evenly as he can, owning up to his brazen mistake as he doesn’t bother to watch his tongue at the moment. It’s not like there’s anyone particularly nearby, they’re still a bit early for class. “Was using a blade cutter sorta thing to cut a pipe and didn’t secure it right. It flung out and hit my safety glasses.”

Choso recoils at the thought, stumbling back a step. To prevent him from falling, Sukuna lets whatever brotherly- or maybe even fatherly- instincts he has take over and grabs his brother’s arm, pulling him forward so he doesn’t fall down the stairs.

“You know why it won’t happen again?” Sukuna queries as Choso steadies himself, releasing his wrist. The little boy shakes his head. “I gotta take a safety course when I start back up there,” he chuckles dryly. “‘Nd I don’t think the boss is gonna let me use that machine again.”

Choso more confidently peers up at Sukuna, the gaze of a kid forced to mature too early searching for any signs of uncertainty in his older brother. When he doesn’t find any, he lets out a gentle sigh. “What if… there’s an accident, or…” The little boy trails off, voicing what Sukuna’s sure he knows to be nothing more than anxious thoughts.

He takes a moment to pause before speaking. “Tell ya what. When Kaori pays up, I’ll buy you a phone. If something happens, I can text or call.”

Choso perks up a bit at the thought, chewing on his lower lip. “I think that would make me feel a bit better.”

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sukuna smirks. “Yeah, this all a ploy to get a phone?”

Choso scowls again, but there’s an air of playful disdain to it this time around. “Nooo,” the kid retorts with a whine, egging on his older brother’s chuckles.

“Alright, alright. Look, I gotta talk to the office for a bit here anyway to make sure you two’re all set, you good to at least give a shot to going to school?”

Choso’s eyes flicker towards the front entryway of the building he clearly has more bad blood with than Sukuna realized. He still seems hesitant, and it’s no doubt because it’s not just about being afraid of losing Sukuna. There’s more to Choso’s fear than that, Sukuna’s sure.

But this time, as Choso nods and Sukuna sends him and his brother along with an administrative assistant who gets them set back up in their classrooms again, things will be different. Sukuna’s sure of it, as he turns to the employee.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Sukuna?”

“Choso’s bein’ bullied, who do I gotta talk to to sort that shit out?”

–

Honestly, the Financial Aid Office calling you at eight in the morning and leaving a message was just downright cruel of them. That’s like the ‘we need to talk’ of colleges, and as if that isn’t bad enough, now the Financial Aid Counsellor is running late and you’re left sitting in the waiting room stewing in your own anxiety.

So, safe to say you’ve had a bad start to your day. 

And it doesn’t hurt to expect a bad middle to your day, either.

You’re not hopeful for the end of your day given the circumstances.

As your name is finally called and you’re ushered into the Financial Aid Office when at last the Counsellor handling your case arrives, your heart drops into your stomach as you realize it’s over before it’s started. The President of the school is seated alongside the Counsellor, a stern, albeit somber expression spread across his wrinkled features.

The Counsellor waves her hand, a sympathetic lilt to her tone as she tells you to take a seat.

“Sorry to call you in on such short notice,” she begins by apologizing as she introduces both herself and the President, though you’ve already spoken to the President almost four years ago now as one of the earliest grants of the Kamo Scholarship that year.

“That’s alright,” you wave her sympathy aside with a grimace. “I kind of figured this was coming.” Given that her supervisor is sitting directly beside her, you can tell this is more or less out of her control. She’s only here as a formality, it’s not her fault.

The Counsellor’s demeanor shifts to something you can’t read as she sits upright. “Right. Well, let’s begin, then. We’ve been approached by Kamo Corporation, who grants your scholarship, and they’ve chosen to withdraw the funding for your schooling due to breaks in your agreement. Have you spoken to anyone in their finance or HR departments yet?”

You knew it was coming, it was only a matter of time, and yet sitting here and watching four years of hard work get pulled out from under you feels unreal. “No,” you whisper as you grapple with the thought that Kaori had to get one final jab at Sukuna. There’s no better way to get through to an immovable man than through the people he cares about.

His greatest strength, and biggest weakness.

With the kids defended and safe with him, that left you in her fire.

“I haven’t,” you add, clearing your throat to prevent the wavering in your voice. If there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that you’re not about to let Kamo Corp. or anyone push you around.

“You haven’t received a written notice, or any sort of opportunity to fight it?” The Counsellor confirms. She’s not much older than you, and you have every reason to believe she’s seen the news, and likely knows about your connection to Sukuna to some degree or another. You’re pretty sure everyone on campus does, at this point.

“Nothing,” you confirm, sucking in a breath to keep yourself calm.

“Um-” She glances at the President, some sort of plea held in her eyes that goes unanswered. “Let’s see,” she turns her attention back to her paperwork, pushing invoice and payment paperwork across the table to you. “So, if you take a look here-”

You knew this would happen. The moment Sukuna won, it was inevitable. That’s just who Kaori is as a person, and it doesn’t matter how petty or pathetic the act is, it’s only ever about hurting Sukuna. Her world is a simple one, born on the foundation of bringing her up and built brick by brick with the suffering of those around her.

She’s simply the kind of person who inflicts cruelty for gain.

You figured the semester- maybe the year- would need to be paid back, in time.

But there’s not a drop of cash to your name left according to this paperwork.

“They withdrew it all?” Your eyes are saucer-wide as you look up from the paperwork, surely interrupting whatever she might have been saying as you lean forward in your chair.

“Well, yes, um-” she attempts to launch into an explanation on how scholarship funding works at the school, but it’s all lost on you. Your heart thrums an uneven song in your ears as you continue flipping through four years’ worth of payments all made by Kamo, only to stare at the red withdrawal at the end.

It’s a hefty loan. It’s years’ worth of debt.

Yet, you’d do it all over again to see those little boys happy in Sukuna’s care.

But it doesn’t stop your frustration. “I thought I would need to pay them back,” you state, interrupting whatever the Counsellor was saying once more. You had this idea in your head that they’d inform the school of the issue, your diploma would be withheld, although you’d finish out your exams and courses, and you would eventually pay your debt back.

She adjusts her train of thought, throwing her pony tail over her shoulder as she nods. “Yes, um, this is a bit of an odd case, honestly. Usually payments are stopped and at most we’re asked to withhold a diploma, but this-” she shakes her head, genuinely at a loss. You wonder how much she’s truly meant to divulge, based on the sideward glance she’s receiving from the President.

Your gaze flickers to the school President, who remains stoic to the best of his abilities. You can’t tell whether he’s got anything to say or if this is just some sort of formality given the sheer amount of debt. “You’re saying I can’t take my finals?”

She swallows hard. “No.” A brief pause, one that betrays her own doubt in this decision. “You can’t. I’m sorry.”

There’s something odd about the feeling that overcomes you, having known this would happen while still reasonably choked up. On one hand, you’ve come to terms with it, complacently accepting your place as a pawn to Kaori’s cruelty. On the other hand, you want to scream and cry and fight your way out.

She didn’t just punish you, or Sukuna. She put a stake in your future, pinning you in limbo.

It leaves you in a strange pocket in time. One where you’re left to weigh your options, your bartering ability, your very future. Sure, Maya would likely let you keep your job given that you did still finish the year, mostly. Maybe you could give up on the diploma, but after four years, the last thing you need is to visit your parents with nothing to show for it after they spent so much of their own money to pay for your housing and well-being.

On the other hand, if the last few months grappling with Kaori have taught you anything, it’s that you shouldn’t take this sitting down. You won’t let her walk all over you.

But who are you meant to argue with? The woman before you is the messenger at best, and no one at Kamo Corp dared to show their face today.

“So…” You rub the edge of your eye with a thumb, the fact that you’re wearing makeup escaping you. “I have to pay for all four years to take my exams,” you confirm.

“That’s right.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Your gaze shifts to the President, whose stoic demeanor shifts as he quietly exhales. It’s clear now that this is why he’s here, as you turn your attention to him, unsatisfied with this being the conclusion to your schooling. “There’s no way you don’t know what’s going on with Kamo Corp, Sukuna and I,” you point out. For all you can tell from the man’s stoic expression, you’re desperately clawing at a dead end, but damn it.

You can’t let Kaori win.

You can’t let her step on you.

You’re done sitting back and giving her, or anyone a chance to step on you.

“This is just to get back at Sukuna, and I know you know that,” you add bitterly, fists clenched in your lap.

The President’s somber grimace turns to a full frown. “We don’t get a say in what Kamo Corporation chooses to do with their scholarships. This is out of left field for us too-”

“But don’t you see what they’re doing?” You interrupt, unwilling to hear his half-baked practiced argument. “Couldn't you be the bigger guys and waive the fees?”

The Counsellor shifts uncomfortably in her seat, eyeing the school President. He drags a hand from the well-groomed mustache on his face down to his chin. It’s clear that on some level your argument is working, but he continues to hold back. “Look, we’ve explored angles here and I absolutely have sympathy for the situation that Kamo Corporation has put you through, but we don’t have wiggle room on school funds.”

Given how much your tuition is, bull-shit.

“I don’t understand,” you breathe, the walls closing in on you as you realize that in spite of his sympathy, you’re talking to a wall. “You obviously get where I’m coming from. Can’t you at least let me finish the exams and pay later? Or, what about the tuition awards you give out to the top students at the end of the year?”

He swallows hard, measuring his emotions. “Due to the situation we did present this to the Board of Directors,” he states, making your shoulders fall at the painfully familiar conversation. The difference between Maya and this man is that Maya will fight for you. Your college, as it would turn out, not so much. “Unfortunately, the board opted to handle this in the same way that they would for any other student, regardless of your situation.”

Caged well within your agreeable demeanor is a side to you that’s screaming and clawing at its cage to escape. It’s always the damn board. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on Kamo Corp owning a portion of the school, too. No matter what way you look at it, you’re doomed. Kaori is always a step ahead, waiting to put you in check.

“Additionally, the Tuition awards are intended for students with near-perfect grades. It wouldn’t be fair to those who achieved high honors to not reward them for their work.”

Oh great, really rub it in that your grades fell, too.

“On top of that, those only cover a year and are intended for returning students.”

“At this rate, I will be returning!” You insist, waving a hand through the air in disdain. It makes you want to scream just how pointless this argument is, but you’ll be damned to go down without a fight.

“You would be required to finish your exams, regardless.”

“Then let me!” You insist, but the silent grimace you receive is a reply in itself. Fighting a groan at this pointless conversation, you hold your head in your hands, your makeup a forgotten victim to your frustrations. Pushing your hands back through your hair, you lift your head to look at him. “If I can come up with the money in a few days, could I petition to retake my exams?”

“I would be willing to accept the petition given the circumstances, yes.”

You nod slowly, chewing on your lip as you contemplate whether arguing here is worth your time. “Fine,” you stand, resolute as you fix the President with your gaze. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Storming out with determination in tow, you head for your car. It’s only once you’re sitting with the engine started and music low that you realize you don’t have a plan. For all of your expectations that this would happen, you never really had a chance to stop and actually consider what you would do.

Sitting stiff in your seat, you lean forward against the wheel, narrowly avoiding setting off the horn. Taking a moment to yourself, you let your furious heart calm as you breathe in deeply. Something about knowing this moment would come leaves you feeling woefully underprepared for it, as though your body can’t decide whether it’s shocked or calm. Angry or under control. Upset or understanding.

Just caught up floating in between, trapped in a sea that tosses you to and fro, never quite able to reach a shore.

Running on instinct, you turn the key in the ignition, willing yourself to move into action before you’re pulled under.

–

When Sukuna arrived at the school’s office, he’d expected a long conversation. He’d warned the publishing house that he’d be late and would need to make up time after office hours.

They didn’t mind.

Rarely did, empathetic to his situation.

He expected a long discussion about bullying. He expected to fumble through discussions about prevention and how to help Choso’s wavering mental health within the school’s four walls. He’d expected tough conversations about changing his classroom and teacher given the circumstances of the kids’ lives. He knew the adjustment to new friends and different teaching styles would be a big commitment, especially for the last couple of weeks of school, and contemplating whether that change was worth it, versus simply talking to the bullies themselves.

They brought Choso in to discuss the situation at length and let him decide what he felt was best for him, at the expense of damp cheeks and shaky breaths when the poor boy had to face the reality of what had been going on for so long. From the moment they called him to the office, Sukuna knew he wouldn’t be thrilled to discuss the matter. The brute hadn’t been able to get a single detail out of him regarding his bullying, which only led to more drawn out discussions now that someone else was involved.

The pit in Sukuna’s stomach had been carved out long ago by Ms. Donovan during the first trial, but it would seem it’s still hollow, if the rattling disdain Sukuna feels within has anything to say about it. The idea of his little brother- far more patient and kind than Sukuna had ever been- struggling with others because he can’t bear to stand up for himself under the weight of his anxiety frustrates Sukuna to no end.

He half-wishes they were closer in age, so Sukuna could reasonably beat up his brother’s bullies.

At his current age, he can spot a number of issues with that idea, so he tosses the thought aside.

By one, the day is feeling long, but it would seem Yuji has every intention of making it longer, as he’s dragged to the principal’s office with a big frown and puffy cheeks.

With all three brothers in chairs across from the principal, Sukuna shuts his eyes, willing himself to have more patience than he can usually muster. He reminds himself that they’ve been through a lot, huffing as he faces the five-year-old. “What happened?”

“One of the other boys tried to take my pencil.”

Someone grant him the strength.

“A pencil?” He utters in complete disbelief.

“You bought it for me,” Yuji pouts, folding his arms over his chest.

Whatever god is listening, he’s begging.

With a loud, frustrated exhale, he presses a thumb between the crease of his brows. The principal sits across from the three of them silently with an empathetic smile. Sukuna doesn’t doubt she’s been in his position before. Probably with Yuji, too. “Yuji, what did we say about sharing?”

“I don’t wanna!” He yells, causing a scene as he hops to his feet with all the anger of a five-year-old ready to stand his ground. “That’s mine, you gave it to me! They can’t have it! No one can take it away!”

Over the last few days, Sukuna’s caught little glimpses into life at Kaori’s household. Although there’s much left unsaid that both boys struggle to speak of despite encouragement, Sukuna figures he’ll hear about it when they’re ready. This is one of those things that doesn’t need any verbal storytelling. It’s as clear as day; Noritoshi Kamo took a lot from Yuji. Sukuna doesn’t know what or why, but it’s left the kid with very little wiggle-room to share with others.

“Yu…” Sukuna sighs, at a complete loss of how to get his point across when he’s never been good with words to begin with. Now he’s navigating completely unknown territory again.

As the conversation shifts from the topic of Choso’s preferences to Yuji’s new behaviors, the principal stands up. Her short hair is slightly askew from the day’s long early meeting, but she’s kind and frankly for all the hell Sukuna’s brothers have given her over the years, she’s handling it better than most.

He may carry disdain towards the school for allowing the bullying to go on to begin with, not to mention the testimony of Choso’s teacher, but she commands respect for how she handles tense situations.

“Can I offer you a glass of water?” She offers both kids, adjusting her blazer. Choso nods, quickly followed by Yuji. “Mr. Sukuna? Water, coffee, tea?”

“Coffee, thanks. Whatever the darkest brew is.”

A compassionate laugh parts her lips, an air of exhaustion caught around her as well. Once she leaves the room, it becomes obvious that her departure is twofold, as it allows Sukuna to talk to his brothers in private.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts as Choso stews in his mind and Yuji kicks his feet grumpily when he takes a seat again.

Finally graced with a moment’s silence, Sukuna stares straight ahead as he addresses them. “I know a lotta shit went down with-”

“Bad word!” Yuji shouts, his finger pointed straight at his older brother.

“Stop,” Sukuna hisses, lowering Yuji’s hand from pointing at him. “I know a lotta stuff,” he shoots a pointed glare at the little boy, “went down at Kaori’s, okay?” He glances sidelong at either brother. “I know you’ve both got a lot on your mind, but you can’t take it out on others, got that?” He faces Yuji as he finishes that statement.

Dejected, Yuji takes a seat and stares down at his lap. His arms are no longer crossed, his fingers uncertainly fiddling with one another.

“Yu, do you really care about the pencil?”

“No…”

Sukuna can feel his phone vibrating, but can’t give it his attention in the moment, remaining attentive to Yuji. “Then why fight with some kid?”

Yuji can’t seem to come up with a good response as he utters a begrudged, “‘cause.”

Fighting a roll of his eyes at the little boy’s stubbornness, Sukuna pushes a hand through his hair. “Not a good reason and you know it, brat.”

Yuji peers up at him, as if waiting for a better explanation.

“It’s a pencil, Yu. There’s nothin’ special about it. If it were your GameBoy, don’t think I’d really care that you made a fuss. You know I’ve defended you for worse,” Sukuna shrugs. The kids know he lets them get away with a lot despite his stoicism and grumpy demeanor. He’s brushed off more concerns than the principal can count and yet she remains kind with them. For that, he’s appreciative. “But it’s a pencil. You understand?”

“Yes, Kuna,” he replies, feeling a taste of shame over his older brother’s disappointment.

Maybe telling his kid brother that he’s allowed to fight someone over his belongings if it’s valuable enough isn’t his best advice, but it’s not his worst either.

At least the principal isn’t here to scold him too for his mildly sketchy parental advice.

Cho is… a tougher case. He lowers his voice, his tough expression softening to something more understanding as he takes a page out of your books and gives Choso the resources to help himself. “Without the principal here, is it easier to tell me what you want?”

Choso shifts in his seat, adjusting his arms in his lap. “I just wanna go home,” he murmurs under his breath.

“I gotta work, Cho. I can’t homeschool you,” he gruffs.

“I know,” he mumbles, pulling his feet up onto the chair. He buries his face into his knees as he holds them to his chest.

“You got two weeks left of school, right?”

With his face still hidden in his knees, the kid nods.

The principal returns to the room as Sukuna begins speaking again, placing a cup or mug before each of the siblings. “Why don’t you try the other class for two weeks?” Sukuna offers. “Your friends’ll be around at lunch n’ recess still. Maybe you’ll make some new ones, too.”

Choso’s back rises and falls, slow and heavy, as he contemplates his older brother’s suggestion. The silence stretches on as the little boy thinks it through before nodding, peering out meekly at his brother. “I can try.”

Relieved to have come to a conclusion, Sukuna lets out a relieved breath.

“Sounds like we’ve come to a decision,” the principal offers the floor to speak.

As Sukuna goes over the details he discussed with Choso, mostly choosing to brush off Yuji’s misdemeanor for better or for worse, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket again. His train of thought stumbles as he contemplates who it could be, but focuses once more on the meeting. The kids are sent back to their classrooms as Sukuna lastly discusses what the school will do in order to protect Choso, before finally adjourning.

Leaving the room with an exhausted gait as he drags his feet on the way out the front door, he pulls his phone out to see two missed calls over the span of twenty or so minutes and a text from you.

1:03 PM Princess || Call me when you get a chance? :( 

His shoulders fall, his weariness clinging heavily to his limbs as he takes a seat on the front step of the stairs which he’d been atop just a few hours ago talking to Choso. He takes a moment to himself to breathe and reset before he hits the call button.

“Princess?” He greets you the moment he hears the line connect.

“Hey,” you breathe, more dejected than he dares to admit.

“Just got outta the meeting with the school, didn’t mean to miss your calls.”

“That’s alright!” You insist, still sweet as ever despite the lilt to your tone that betrays how frankly not alright you are. “That’s a long meeting, how’d it go?”

You’re so saccharine he swears he must have a sweet tooth or something. He craves the sound of your voice like his lungs need oxygen. “Fine. Got things figured out for now,” he dismisses your question, shifting the attention back to you. He sucks in a breath before asking the question he dreads to know the answer to. “Kaori…?” He can’t even get the rest out, the one word winding him as he’s thrown into the harsh whirlwind of the reality that he’s inadvertently fucked you over.

Again.

You both suspected it would happen, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. He leans back on the concrete step behind him, resting his elbow on it as he holds the phone to his ear.

“Yeah,” you sigh, a stiff chuckle that sounds like the textbook definition of ‘laughing to cope’ coming through the other line. Sukuna frowns, allowing you to gather your thoughts and continue. “Um, I think I knew it would happen but now that’s it here it almost doesn’t feel real,” you chuckle. Everything about your demeanor is too cheery and Sukuna can feel it. He knows the sensation of bottling things up and brushing things under the rug all too well.

He hums in acknowledgement, his lips pressed into a tight line. “How much are we talkin’?”

“The whole four years,” you squeeze the words out tersely.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna growls, hackles rising. If you won’t be upset, then he will on your behalf. “That’s bullshit, the school’s allowing that?”

“You won’t believe how bad it actually is.” You continue to laugh and he can scarcely make out the sounds of chatter in the background of wherever you are. “So, I’m basically completely unenrolled right now, so I can’t take my finals-”

“But those start tomorrow,” Sukuna growls, frustration boiling over as he accidentally interrupts.

You bite down on your lower lip, a bittersweet smile hidden behind the receiver. “I know. That’s why she waited. She’s forcing me to retake this semester someday when I can pull together the funds to do that. My parents are gonna be so pissed…” You murmur to yourself, leaning your head back against the headrest of your car’s seat.

“I’m pissed!” Sukuna hisses, his anger clearly directed at your situation rather than you.

Your soft coping laughter only makes his frustration boil over. “I know. Thanks, Kuna.”

You’re taking the loss of your last four years’ worth of work so well, but the tension in your throat can be heard a mile away. It’s vexing why you won’t let it out. Trying to keep his own attitude under wraps, he feels his leg begin to bounce as he presses his lips into a thin line, letting you continue.

“You know what the worst part is?”

“Mm?”

“I guess usually when this happens, the school would keep the money and Kamo would work with me to pay them back, right? Then I would at least still be able to finish my exams and maybe just have my diploma withheld until I paid. Instead–” you chuckle, your voice finally betraying you as it breaks. “They withdrew the entire scholarship from the school so that I can’t continue at all.”

Before Sukuna can comment, words keep spilling from your mouth.

“If I needed to pay back Kamo Corp that would be tough, but at least I could finish out the year and get my diploma eventually. I could just work off the debt over the years, but now that I can't even finish off the year, I don’t know what to do,” you barely pause for a breath but the stammer between your sentences tells Sukuna all he needs to know.

At some point, your cheeks dampened as tears of frustration spilled over.

“I know Maya will let me stay without a diploma and that is what I want, but if I wanna grow my career, it’ll be hard without it,” you breathe unevenly, doing what you can to mask the tears that are frustratedly spilling over and making Sukuna feel guilty for dragging you into this in the first place. He knows no matter how upset you are, you’ll still insist he’s not at fault. And he even knows to some degree that you’re right. “And I don’t qualify for the school’s tuition program and the government loan program is meant for current students, but I can’t continue until the first three and a half years are paid so I’m not even enrolled anymore, and that means I have to go through a bank which means my parents would need to co-sign and there’ll be interest and-”

“Princess,” Sukuna’s tone is low, his voice like gravel. Guilt spills through the cracks, but he focuses on you first and foremost. He can’t imagine it being easy to call him when you both struggle with guilt. “Where are you?”

“Um-” you swallow the lump at the back of your throat, frustratedly pushing down your tears. “Outside the bank.”

“Go to the bank tomorrow. Meet me at your place.”

“But I don’t have time, I need to pay it off before my finals and they start tomorrow,” you explain with an uneven drawl.

“Can’t you petition to take ‘em later?”

It’s quiet as you mull over his question. You even mentioned that to the President and at this point, you know you’ll have to, but it doesn’t make it any easier when every bone in your body insists on fighting for this. Somewhere between taking what comes in stride and putting your friends and loved ones first, your own stress fell through the cracks. Slipping through in the form of wet tears, you suck in a sharp breath and lean back against the headrest.

You don’t want to be realistic right now. You want to waltz into the bank and get some interest-free loan that covers your entire tuition and walk into the Financial Aid Office and demand to take your exams without any petition.

But you need to be realistic right now. Life’s not so simple and if anything, it’s proving to be cruel. Or maybe Kaori’s just a special exception.

Regardless, the reality is that there’s no interest-free loan awaiting you through the glass doors before you. There probably isn’t a loan awaiting you at all. The only property to your name is a hand-me-down car you got from your parents when you got to school and you don’t have a credit score worthy of a loan that hefty. Even if you did, you’d need a parent’s signature to sign off on it and getting them here is more money you and they don’t have.

There’s a quiet voice in the back of your mind whispering that the only real solution is to beg some sketchy loan company. That little devil on your shoulder is probably right, too, but you’re not ready to admit it yet. You don’t know how to let go of hope, and the angel on your shoulder tells you that if you can find a loophole like you did with the trial.

Maybe if you just read through your Kamo Scholarship-

“Princess,” Sukuna’s voice cuts through your endless stream of thoughts, pulling you back to the present when you don’t respond. “You want me to come get you?”

“I can drive,” you murmur, sniffling.

“Not what I asked.”

He can picture your little pout as you quietly whisper into the receiver, “I can’t ask that of you.”

He huffs, brow furrowed at your stubborn reply. Is this what it’s like handling him when he’s being frustrating?

No. He’s probably tenfold worse. You just don’t know how to put yourself first.

“Text me your location. ‘M on my way.”

Your hesitation comes through clear as day as you whisper, “thanks, Kuna,” before sending him the bank you’re sitting out front of, not too far from your apartment.

“See you soon, princess.”

–

With your arms crossed under your chin, you lean heavily over the steering wheel, your eyes sunken from the weight of the day. It feels like it should be at least six in the evening, not barely two in the afternoon.

Worse still, you feel bad for dragging Sukuna out here when you easily could have met him at your place, which reminds you that you feel bad for calling him in the first place because you knew this whole thing would make him feel guilty too.

So, just guilt all-around, really.

But then that only makes you think about how frustrating it was to watch Sukuna refuse help for so long for all the same reasons.

And then you get caught in a loop that just leaves you feeling drained and frankly dumb.

It’s aggravating beyond belief.

You even contemplated calling Shoko instead, but she’s still in her exam and doesn’t offer the kind of comfort you long for.

As someone leaves the bank and the door shuts behind them, you slide your chin from your arms, leaning your forehead against them so that you don’t need to watch anyone coming from the bank anymore.

Maybe you don’t need the diploma. You have a job after all, right? If you aren’t in school, you might be able to negotiate with Maya to go full-time now that Reggie’s gone and Yuki’s taken his old position. You still got the education, took the classes, and have the knowledge. You can still  put the schooling on your resumé, just without the term diploma.

You’re swimming in debt with or without the diploma. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

The sour sensation that leaves on your tongue tastes an awful lot like defeat, though. It tastes like letting Kaori’s last stand be the victory she’s desperate to strike Sukuna with.

It feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve spent months encouraging him to fight for to just give up now. It feels like a betrayal to your parents for four years’ worth of food and lodging. Most importantly, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. This was your dream. You’re in the homestretch, you can’t let yourself get tripped up right at the finish line.

Groggily opening your eyes and lifting your head, you blink at the bank in front of you as your eyes readjust to the light after having them shut so long. Glancing to the side, you spot Sukuna in a steady stride making his way towards your car. He’s barely masking that he’s pissed, his features twisted in a harsh scowl that just barely softens when he spots you watching him.

He gives the handle a single tug, waiting for you to unlock it before trying it again.

When you peer up at him beneath lashes that stick together from wetting your makeup, he juts his chin towards the passenger’s seat. “Climb over,” he instructs.

You fix him with a perplexed stare.

“I’m driving. Move over.”

“Can you even drive?”

His eyes narrow.

“No, I just mean-” you sigh, “like, do you have a license?”

“Yeah, move over.”

With no energy to fight his instructions, you lift your feet clumsily over the center console and plop down in the passenger’s seat. Buckling in, you quietly slump back in the seat and will your mind to just… stop. Just for a moment, you need peace rather than contemplation.

Your car roars to life as Sukuna adjusts your seat and mirrors for his extra height, swinging an arm to rest on the back of your chair as he reverses out of the parking spot and begins the drive to your place. The car jerks a couple of times, evidence that he isn’t familiar with your car and hasn’t driven in a few years, but he’s otherwise a good driver.

Soon, you’re on the road and Sukuna’s palm finds your thigh, squeezing softly. You turn your attention to his veiny hand, radiating heat through the cotton of your leggings. You cast a glance up at him, his gaze fixed on the road, scowl still in place. If you were in a better place mentally, you might make a joke about his face getting stuck in that expression if he isn’t careful.

Returning your eyeline to his hand, you settle one of yours atop his. The skin of his knuckles is rough, decorated in several little scars you’ve never really had the time to notice in all of your time with the man. You can only imagine a majority of them come from all the tussles he got into during his teen years.

Your fingers run along one of the prominent veins on the back of his hand, pausing at the black band around his wrist. “Which tattoo hurt the most?” You query quietly, focusing on anything besides the turmoil within your mind.

“Uh-” he contemplates for a moment, his gaze flickering towards you. “Face sucked,” he shrugs, though you suppose that’s a given. “The inside of my upper thighs hurt like a motherfucker, though.”

“Your thighs?” You repeat, letting your eyes wander from his wrist over to his thighs. As you process where exactly he’s talking about and how slutty that is, your gaze gets dangerously close to other things, and you feel your cheeks warm. The trees blurring outside become very interesting all of a sudden.

He chuckles lowly. “Gettin’ shy on me, princess?” He teases, though it’s half-hearted. It’s clear he wants to cheer you up, but doesn’t know how. He’s used to being the one in the passenger’s seat of life. He hasn’t been able to be there for you when you’ve needed someone, it pains him to know he’s been the cause of your hurt more often than he cares to admit.

A cruel reminder in the recesses of his psyche screams that he still is the cause of your hurt, but he knows how you would feel if you knew the thoughts crossing his mind. He pushes it down to focus on you.

Pulling up to your apartment, it occurs to him that he hasn’t been here in a long while. The last time he can recall being at your place, or well, inside your place was for the project. You direct him to your parking stall and lead the way up to your apartment that he scarcely remembers the way to.

Within the privacy of your home, your shoulders slump as you toss your keys onto your kitchen counter. Leaning against it and rubbing your fingers beneath your lash line in an effort to fix your makeup, you blink when you find Sukuna standing before you with crossed arms. His gaze flickers across your face, reading every crease and twitch.

You don’t hesitate to step forward and slide your arms around his torso, burying your face into his pecs when he lifts his arms, briefly stiffening as he watches you. It only takes a moment for him to melt into your embrace, bending down to hug you with his entire being. His arms loop strong around you as he melts into your warmth and it becomes clear just how much he needed this too.

His chin drops to the crown of your head, one of his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair as he cradles your head close to him. You exhale a long breath, unaccustomed to having someone to bury your face into when you’re low. It’s a nice feeling to fall back and have someone catch you. Particularly someone as bulky as Sukuna is, whose arms feel like they block out the noise from the outside world with nothing but strength alone.

His heart pounds beneath your ear, his pulse betraying his feelings for you. For someone who shields his emotions from the world, hiding behind scowls and snarls, it’s heartwarming to see and feel just how much you affect him. His feelings aren’t loud by any means, he doesn’t scream his adoration from the tops of mountains. He’s quiet still, but whether on purpose or because he simply can’t hide his feelings for you, they bleed through the silence and caress you in warmth.

Time blurs as you stand in Sukuna’s arms. You can’t say for certain how long you stand there before he shifts his hands, sliding both along the sides of your figure until he reaches your thighs. He gives them a light squeeze as a warning before effortlessly lifting you off the ground. You let out a surprised gasp as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your arms locking over his shoulders as he hoists you up and makes his way over to your couch.

Your muscles cord at the thought of how easily he holds you and how natural it is for your body to react. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings flapping in your throat as they threaten to spread throughout your whole being.

He loosens his hold on your thighs before taking a seat to give you time to unravel your legs so he won’t crush them. He sits at the far end of the couch, lifting his feet to stretch across the couch with you atop him. He doesn’t hesitate to manhandle you into laying on top of him, your head still on his chest as he settles into the cushions.

You hold yourself up above him uncertainly on your forearms, the faintest of nervous trembles to be found within your fingers. Somehow knowing the emotions behind his actions makes being atop him in such a vulnerable position more nerve-wracking than the uncertainty did. It’s like your body can’t decide between being flustered by his new affections or feeling at ease within the safety of one of your closest friends.

He quietly examines your features, but you can’t gleam much from him.

It doesn’t come as a shock that he doesn’t know what to say so he opts for nothing at all- that’s the sort of man Sukuna is.

It doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to try, though, no matter how clumsy. “Just breathe.”

A half-hearted smile tugs at your lips. Pressure has built behind your eyes from unshed tears and there’s a mild painful ebb telling of a headache that lingers at the edge of your mind. Grief and frustration coil in your heart, wrenching it with the pain of wringing out a towel. You’re tired, more than anything.

A reminder to breathe isn’t exactly what you need right now, but you recognize the patterns behind his comfort. He’s trying, repeating what exactly it is that’s gotten him through so many rough days.

But then again, that thought brings you back to everything you’ve been through with one another. To late nights and tense mornings spent with bated breath.

Maybe you don’t need to breathe in the way he may mean it, your anxieties are at bay for now, but his words do serve as a reminder to let yourself fall into him. Not just to let him hold you physically, but to truly let the tension dissolve from your body and rely on him to keep you up, even if only for a moment.

Maybe you aren’t giving him enough credit for reminding you to breathe, after all.

Your shoulders gradually relax as you allow yourself to give in to his embrace, your eyes flickering shut as you lower your head to his chest. You let out a sigh somewhere between contentedness and melancholy, listening only to the gentle rise and fall of his breaths beneath your ear.

His hand subconsciously kneads the skin of your arm resting on his torso, his eyes flickering across your softened features. Grateful to find you taking a moment to relax, he lets his head fall back to allow you time to unwind. He stares at the ceiling as weariness plagues him. It’s been a long morning, but as much as this soothes his own day’s disdain, this isn’t about him.

For all the guilt churning in his stomach, he can’t turn this into another apology you’ll shoot down. He knows you’ll tell him it’s not his fault. No point in pushing it.

“You wanna talk me through it?” He speaks up when he sees your lashes fluttering once more, gaze fixated on the wall ahead. “Maybe a little slower, this time,” he flashes you a smirk in order to keep the mood light.

Peering up at him, you cross your arms beneath your chin, admiring the aloof expression he always so casually wears.

You’ve never really thought of it as much more than stoicism and a bit of exhaustion before, but he’s got a pretty killer resting bitch face now that you think about it. The thought has a breath of air puffing from your nose as you briefly avert your eyes before fixing him with your gaze again.

Sighing, you tilt your head, brushing your finger softly against the thin fabric of his dress shirt. “So normally the money would stay with the school and I would be forced to pay Kamo Corp. back, but because they’re on the board- which, by the way, are you kidding?” You shake your head in disbelief. “They were able to withdraw all four years’ worth of my tuition from the school.”

“Fuckers,” Sukuna mutters under his breath, his kneading fingers idly squeezing your arm.

You give him a small nod. “I can’t take my finals without all four years being paid and if I don’t finish them now, I have to retake the semester after I get everything paid. I can’t get a government loan because I’m not a current student, which means I have to go through a bank… but I can’t get one of those either because I need a co-signer since I pretty much have no credit score and I can’t afford to have my parents visit to do that.”

“Don’t those have interest too?” He gruffs, scowling down at you laying on his chest.

You bury your head in your arms, the faint smell of smoke and the woodsy undertone of his cologne filling your senses. “Yeah,” you reply, muffled.

He lets out a scoff, less than impressed that Kaori’s managed to thoroughly fuck you over. “One last ‘fuck you’ from Kaori, I guess,” he mumbles, averting his gaze as the crease between his brows deepens.

“It’s not your fault,” you insist, the gears grinding in his mind visibly as his guilt reads like a book.

He doesn’t reply, neither accepting or denying your claim. He simply holds you, quietly searching your expression. “Could I sign off on a loan?”

You thoughtfully chew on the inside of your cheek. Your eyes narrow in thought as you consider his offer. “Is your credit score any good?”

“Uh-” he cuts himself off with a puff of air from his nose, considering his unpaid rent bills. “Probably not.”

“I don’t think it’s an option then,” you sigh, resting your cheek on your folded arms. You stare at the back of your couch, an ugly old piece of furniture likely from the seventies that Sukuna’s legs dangle off of. It came with the apartment when you moved in and it’s just about the biggest eyesore in the place, usually covered in blankets so you can forget it exists.

Groaning solemnly, you bury your face between your folded arms, your breath warm on Sukuna’s chest. He squeezes your arm softly, at a loss for what to say, or do, so he tightens his grip on you, pulling you up until he can hold your head in the crook of his neck. He settles an arm around your waist while the other combs through your hair in a manner that’s simultaneously soothing and nerve-wracking given your unlabelled situation.

“It’s just so frustrating,” you mumble, muffled by his shoulder. His gaze slides from your ceiling to you as he hums in agreement. “It’s like she thought of every single way she could fuck us over and specifically chose the one with the worst outcome.”

He frowns at your vulgar words, unlike what he’s used to coming from you, though he makes no effort to point it out, continuing to gently comb your hair.

“I know I should just let it go and start working, but…” you swallow hard as your body tenses. “I worked so hard these last four years for this.”

Sukuna sighs. You feel him nod beside you, leaning his head against yours in his best attempt at comfort, though he understands all too well what you’re going through.

“Sorry Kuna, I know I shouldn’t be complaining when you’ve had such a shitty time too, I just-”

“What?” He interrupts, dumbfounded as he contorts himself to see your face. When you avert your gaze, hiding yourself in his shoulder, he huffs. “Hey, look at me.” The pads of his pointer finger and thumb gently but firmly tilt your chin towards him, that familiar scowl facing you as he speaks. “Just because I got shit going on doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset,” he states, squeezing your cheeks enough to force you to pucker your lips. His lips twist into a little smirk, savoring your pout as he does so. He pecks you to make up for it, dropping his hand from your cheeks.

“I know you’re right, I just…”

He snorts. “I get it.”

You shoot him a tight-lipped smile, dropping your head back into the crook of his neck. “I’m tired of all of this, Kuna.”

Your words coax a yawn from him, his body choosing to make his agreement known. “Me too, princess.”

He wishes he had a solution. Even a semblance of one, something missing between the cracks. Kaori won’t make the same mistake twice, though. He’ll need to search elsewhere for answers, but there’s a fire lit beneath his feet and he won’t let it singe him this time. He’ll stay one step ahead and find what he needs.

For now though, he wraps his arms tightly around you and flips onto his side, enveloping you in his welcoming warmth. Tucked between the back of couch and his steady presence, the world fades around you. The bustling outside your window dissipates, the humming of the fridge is tuned out and all that’s left behind is him and you.

Slipping a hand around his waist, you rest your head on his bicep, tantalizing as it is comfortable. A content hum rumbles his chest like the purr of an untroubled cat satisfied in the mid-afternoon sun.

He slips a hand into his pocket to set an alarm just in case to ensure he picks up the kids on time as you drift off in his arms. He sets his phone aside and buries his face into your hair, savoring something he didn’t know he needed so bad.

Now that he has it, he’s terrified of letting go.

–

Leaning back in his chair at work, Sukuna runs his hands through his hair one after the other, yawning as he thinks back on the feeling of holding you close. For as much as he wants to linger on the thought, he’s been going back and forth between two things non-stop.

The first, therapy for the kids. Choso’s first appointment, an assessment, is coming up soon and his mind seems to conjure up every way it could go wrong. Sukuna may not know himself what the little boy needs, but at least he has the resources to figure it out now.

Almost. For now, he’ll go into the red. Kaori’s payment will come eventually. He just needs to put faith in his lawyer.

The second thought he’s found himself lingering on is trying to figure out how to help you. You solved his problem and he owes you. You’re in this because of him, as much as you would never blame him.

He frowns, waggling his tablet pencil between two fingers as his gaze flickers across book spines in his office. No matter how many possibilities he considers, he can’t find any that stay afloat when he tests the theories.

He’s not about to win the lottery anytime soon.

And he definitely isn’t about to take up gambling.

Rolling his shoulders back, he sits up straight and stretches, picking up his phone to read the time.

Almost eleven.

His gaze shifts down to a notification he hadn’t noticed from Toji. Nothing special, just a ‘Yo’. He blinks, letting his thumbs hover only for a second before replying with a quick ‘whats up’.

Toji replies before he even has a chance to set his phone down after clearing notifications.

10:56 AM Toji || You work in the building that your girl had me pick your dumb ass up from the other week right?

Sukuna’s face scrunches up in confusion at the text.

10:58 AM Sukuna || i dont remember you picking me up

10:58 AM Toji || Right

Toji sends an address with a question mark, receiving an affirmation in reply. It only takes him a few moments to type out a longer message.

11:03 AM Toji || Satoru uraume shiu atsuya and i are meeting at the new smash burger place just up the street for lunch, you got an hour?

He stares at the message, the screen illuminating his face in a dull blue as the words take a moment to fully settle in. It’s been so long since he and Toji have been on good terms that seeing such a casual invitation feels almost like his mind is playing tricks on him. It doesn’t dampen the brewing self-reproach in his stomach for even thinking that it feels like a trick, either.

He swallows the growing lump in his throat, tapping his finger along the side of his phone.

He wants to go back in time and smack himself over the head for everything he did to Toji. He surmises that the second best time to make things right is now, though.

11:09 AM Sukuna || sure

He supposes that’s how he finds himself frowning outside the burger joint, lingering a moment too long on how happy his friends look without him. It’s a self-deprecating thought that he hasn’t been able to shake. It lingers within like a parasite, making his fingers twitch around the door handle, willing him to turn and look the other way.

But he squashes that stray thought before it has the chance to fester.

Tightening his grip on the door handle, he swings it open and shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Aloof disinterest is his decorum as usual as he takes a seat beside Uraume with Satoru across from him. He nods to the table in greeting.

“Hey man,” Toji grins, sliding a menu across the table to him. “Really out-doin’ us with the fancy get-up, huh?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” Sukuna grumbles of his work outfit, tugging at the collar of the white fabric.

“It suits you,” Uraume chimes in with a kind smile.

Sukuna grunts, nodding in acknowledgement before the conversation reverts to what was being discussed before he arrived. He focuses on the menu as Shiu chimes in.

“You were saying your car’ll be fixed soon, right? I’m tired of being your chauffeur.”

“Hey, I’m great company,” Toji chides, grinning in spite of himself.

“You’re a passenger princess and you complain if I hit the brakes too hard.”

“I ain’t a fuckin’ passenger princess, asshole,” Toji hisses back, dramatically scoffing at the accusation. “And you’re trigger happy with the damn brakes.”

“Get used to it unless you plan on paying me.”

Toji rolls his eyes, returning to Shiu’s initial question. “Dunno when it’ll be fixed, hopefully soon,” he sighs, leaning forward on his palm with a bored glower. “Can’t believe I was stupid enough to leave my keys out.”

Atsuya’s face contorts into confusion. “I thought your car broke down.”

“That’s what I thought ‘til I got to the shop,” he frowns. “There’s fuckin’ diesel gas in the tank. I’m sure my cousin took my keys n’ used the car.”

“You think it was Naoya?” Uraume’s brow raises.

“Who else?” He sighs. “The real question is whether he fuckin’ did it on purpose knowing I’ll be payin’ it off for months or if he’s just plain stupid.”

“Probably both,” Sukuna snorts, his eyes still on the menu. “Hopefully the shop discount helps, at least.”

Toji shifts to face the pink-haired graphic designer. “Yeah, thanks for that. Sorry about no-showin’ the other day, Ryo. Damn car,” he waves his hand in exasperation.

“It’s fine,” Sukuna brushes him off. “I woulda cancelled anyway,” he mutters, casting a glance at Shiu and Atsuya, who aren’t aware of his life beyond surface-level. 

Well… he supposes maybe they are now, given that his face is still on just about every magazine.

“Oh yeah, what happened?”

With one last flicker of his gaze across Atsuya and Shiu’s neutral expressions, he divulges the football player. “Cho’s got some sorta separation issue,” he shakes his head. “Didn’t know until he realized I was leaving. We had to stay in with him.”

“Separation anxiety?” Uraume’s brow furrows as they lean in, concerned for the kids.

Sukuna nods. “Yeah. There’ve been a lot of little things that are different now.”

“Like what?” Uraume queries.

Sukuna’s gaze sweeps across the table, caution held within his tone. A silent warning rests in his eyes that this remains at the table, lest they face Sukuna’s wrath. “Cho’s talking again, but he spaces out a lot. He…” The brute trails off as he struggles to explain the difference in his brother’s behavior. “He seems like he’s lost a lot of his interests, but-” he shakes his head. “I don’t think he actually has. It’s like he just isn’t willing to admit he likes anything even though he wants to.”

“Huh,” Toji narrows his eyes in thought, exchanging unreadable glances with Satoru and Uraume. “What about Yuji?”

Sukuna drags a hand down his face. “Sharing is that kid’s greatest enemy now,” he grumbles. “He’s mostly fine, but I don’t think he really knows what to make of what happened,” he shrugs. “Y’know, most of the other kids in his class have real parents and he just…” Sukuna waves his hands in the air, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I think now that he knows he has a mom but she isn’t like how the other kids talk about theirs, he just isn’t really sure what to make of things.”

Uraume sets a reassuring hand on Sukuna’s shoulder. “They went through a lot and Yuji is young. I honestly think it sounds like he’s doing well, all things considered.”

Sukuna’s gaze slides down to the menu beneath his palms. “Yeah… Yeah. Guess so.” He opts to leave out the detail that Yuji called Sukuna dad and it’s left them both in a confused state of mind. He can figure that piece out on his own, he supposes.

“Besides, Yuji’s always been bad at sharing,” Uraume points out, trying to make as much light of the situation as they can.

“If you think he was bad before, just wait until you see him next,” Sukuna scoffs. “It’s worse than pulling teeth.”

There’s a collective half-hearted chuckle at the table as they all do their best not to pry too much into Sukuna’s life.

But Toji’s nosy.

So it would only last so long.

A smug grin slowly stretches across his face. “How’re things with your girl?”

Sukuna frowns, irritation flashing in the crimson of his eyes. “You’re a pain,” he growls, shooting Satoru an equally sharp look as the college student snickers at his reaction. “Both of you.”

“I’m allowed to be for puttin’ up with you,” Toji’s grin doesn’t fade as he leans forward over the table. “So, how’re things goin’?” He pushes eagerly.

“Fuck off,” Sukuna brushes him off again, grateful when the waiter makes his way to the table for them all to place their orders. Surely Toji would forget by the time the employee wandered off with all the menus in hand.

Surely.

“C’mon,” he picks up right where he left off, “I had to watch you stare at her with hearts in your eyes for ages, gimme this.”

“Nothing’s happened, okay?” Sukuna barks, exasperated. “There’s so much shit going on between the kids and my job and the lawsuit and her fucking scholarship that I haven’t been able to take her out.” The words slip from his lips without a second thought.

There’s a brief silence as Atsuya and Shiu exchange a look, clearly not sure what to make of Sukuna’s anger, when Uraume steps in. “Her scholarship?”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say anything.

“Oh, shit. She has a Kamo scholarship, doesn’t she?” Satoru pipes up.

Seems the cat’s out of the bag now.

“Don’t tell me,” Uraume stares at him in disbelief. “Kaori…?”

“Yeah,” Sukuna scoffs. “Kaori.”

“So she’s gotta pay back this semester or something?” Satoru inquires, blue eyes curiously blinking at his… acquaintance? It’s about as fitting of a title as the two former rivals can get.

Sukuna laughs bitterly. “I wish it were only one semester. All four fucking years. They withdrew the funds straight from the school, she can’t even finish out the year.”

“What?” Uraume gapes in disbelief. “They’re able to do that?”

“Kamo funds the school, I guess. He can do what he fuckin’ wants apparently,” he grumbles bitterly, half-heartedly thanking the waiter as his meal is set in front of him. “Can we talk about anything else?” He waves a hand through the air, his gaze surveying the table. “I need a break from everything goin’ on.”

Satoru doesn’t hesitate to step in and talk about some new show he’s been watching and how one of the actors is the supposed best of our generation. It’s mostly nonsense to Sukuna who hasn’t so much as seen a trailer with how little time he has to himself, let alone to watch anything that isn’t for his brothers, but it serves as a nice distraction. He finds himself actually paying attention and trying not to zone out for the sake of giving his mind a break from searching for a puzzle piece that might not even exist.

It’s nice. To be able to let go for once and set his worries aside. It’s nice to feel young for a moment, like the world isn’t resting upon his shoulders.

Atsuya chimes in with the possibility of going to a movie later as Satoru nudges Sukuna with his foot while popping a fry into his mouth. “Hey,” he mutters, keeping his voice down to speak to just the pink-haired brute.

He shoots the fratboy a mildly inconvenienced glare, but gives in and fixes his attention on him regardless.

“Look, I know we’re not exactly close and I get that I’ve overstepped,” Satoru offers a haphazard apology. “But she’s my friend too, so you can’t really get upset with me this time,” he grins, any signs of sorrow dissolved with bright eyes. He pops another fry into his mouth, waiting for an acknowledgement from Sukuna that never comes. Clearing his throat, he continues. “Uh, the point is, I just started work this semester at my parents’ company and the firm and our subsidiaries give out a few scholarships every year too.”

Sukuna’s brow twitches as he sets down the burger that was in his hands.

“I don’t think it would take much on my end to pull some strings and get things covered for her,” he says like this isn’t a matter of thousands of dollars. “I mean, she already earned a scholarship so it’s not like she doesn’t deserve it.” He shrugs, waving a fry through the air.

Sukuna’s tone is low as he replies, cautious. “Is that not a lot to ask?” Even as he considers the repercussions, he can’t deny that he would do anything to take this burden from you. It doesn’t matter if it means asking for help, he’ll do whatever it takes. Still, he needs to bear in mind how you would feel about this.

“Did you miss the part where she’s my friend too?” Satoru returns his scowl with a challenge in those brilliant blue irises, leaning back in his seat. “She’s worked hard, she deserves it.”

“I-” Sukuna sighs. “I know that,” he agrees. Your academic achievements far outweigh Sukuna’s own and despite being a bad student, Sukuna does get good grades. You, on the other hand, are a model student and have worked tirelessly for this. “What are the requirements for a scholarship with your company?”

“Usually we require them to work at the company or a subsidiary during the last couple of years, so-” Satoru shrugs. “I don’t know, they might need her to do a bit of work. I’ll just have to see.”

Sukuna nods, staring down at the burger in his hands. He’s staring through it more than at it, the brief moment of respite from his thoughts now gone as his mind races. “How much work?”

“Uh,” Satoru taps his fingers along the table. Like a year, maybe two? Probably,” he frowns. “I’ll see what strings I can pull and let you know. Do either of you have anything else figured out to cover it?”

Sukuna blinks once, twice, three times, then shakes his head. “I’m looking around,” he hesitates, squeezing his burger a bit too hard as condiments drip onto the plate below. “She was checking out banks today.”

“Banks?” Satoru grits his teeth together in a wince. “She’d be in debt for years. Like, longer than student loans. What about a government grant?”

“You need to be a student to get a government student grant,” Sukuna huffs, his frustration towards his step-mother tearing at the seams. “I took a look, but I don’t think she qualifies for anything else.”

Satoru’s brow furrows. “She should at least be able to get a grant for this semester, right? She is a student.”

“She’s suspended until she pays all four years. That’s why she can’t finish her finals.”

“Damn,” Satoru deadpans in that casual tone his voice always seems to hold, no matter the severity of the situation. It pisses Sukuna off if he’s being honest, but he keeps that frustration at bay given that the fratboy has just given you a potential way out. He won’t ruin that for you by being a prick. “Well, I’ll see what I can do, man.”

Sukuna grunts in acknowledgement, opting to stuff his face in light of his irritation. He turns his attention back to the table, though he can’t seem to keep his mind from drifting back to the topic of your scholarship.

He knows it’s not his fault. He knows you can handle it, when push comes to shove. He knows you’re beyond capable of taking everything in stride.

But just once he wants to be the one to do something for you.

He wants to fix this.

You’ve spent the last year looking out for him without so much as batting an eye when you were running on fumes. You let your grades drop and struggled to catch back up. You picked him up and carried him back up from rock bottom while he actively fought against you.

He’s more than willing to spend a lifetime proving to you how much he appreciates it. He knows better than to spend his life feeling as though he owes you, it’s no way to live. But he’ll show you just how much it means to him in any way he can.

His fingers tap on the table and he grunts Satoru’s name, low so as not to interrupt the rest of his friends.

The fratboy perks up, tilting his head questioningly.

“Could I fill in for her?”

“Fill in for her? Like, work for us?”

“I, uh-” Sukuna averts his eyes briefly. “I can do whatever, really. I’ve done labor, or I can just run numbers or something.”

“You’re a graphic designer now, right?” Satoru inquires, briefly assessing Sukuna’s attire as though it might give him some insight. Sukuna slowly nods. “I can work with that. Here,” Satoru extends his hand, waggling his fingers expectantly. “Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in and you can send me your portfolio.”

Leaning back to reach for his phone, Sukuna obliges, unlocking it and setting it in the man’s hand.

“Cool,” Satoru hands it back, reclining in his seat again with all the casualty of a man who isn’t set to inherit a massive investment company. “Shoot me over your portfolio and resumé tonight and I’ll see what I can do tomorrow. No promises, but,” he shrugs, grinning brightly, “I’ll do what I can.”

Sukuna stares at Satoru, more or less filled with uncertainty. “Thanks,” he mumbles, at a loss for words. Barely a month ago, he was contemplating lunging across the table and strangling the guy. Now, he’s struggling to find anything to say that feels like enough given how much Satoru’s done for him and just how genuine the guy really is.

He likes to stir the pot, sure, and he’s got more energy than Sukuna’s usual crowd, but the brute can’t deny any longer that he’s a good guy.

Unsure of what else to say, he falls back on his default. “I owe you one.”

Satoru just waves him off. “Nah, man. I’m not counting favors, it isn’t about owing me. You guys are my friends,” he brightly declares, even managing to warm Sukuna up to the idea of calling him a friend. “Just show up to my grad party in a couple of weeks.”

The ex history major’s lips purse as he stares at the fratboy. It’s too kind and that stupid devil on his shoulder wants him to keep denying. Deny help, deny the party, deny his friendship. But fuck has Sukuna yearned to feel normal for such a long time, unknowingly denying himself of that possibility by trying to carry everything on his lonesome.

Maybe being greedy doesn’t mean putting himself first and finding his answers in self-destruction. Maybe it just means letting people in.

Satoru might have missed it if he wasn’t equally examining Sukuna’s reaction, but held within the quiet understanding between them is a minute nod. The white-haired man is more attentive, smarter, and more caring than even he seems to give himself credit for, returning Sukuna’s nod with a simple grin.

And just like that, he’s chiming back into Toji’s conversation. Sukuna blinks, briefly examining the way Satoru effortlessly slides from serious and heavy conversation into something easy and laughable.

As an hour comes to an end, Sukuna takes his leave with a wave to the group, thanking Toji for the invitation.

Satoru waves. “I’ll let you know how things go tomorrow!”

It’s tight-lipped, but he even cracks a smile at that.

–

Your cheek is squished against your arm as you stare at the campus library wall. Time is zipping past you in the blink of an eye as the day slips away and before you know it, it’s mid-afternoon.

You try to bring yourself to do something, anything, you really do.

But the next option on your exhaustive list of possible solutions to your scholarship is to call your parents, and that’s frankly a miserable task. You’re more than certain that once you explain the situation, they’ll understand, but it’s not that that’s eating at you. It’s your own disappointment in yourself that’s nipping at you, slowly eating away at your drive.

After exhausting the last forty eight or so hours, you’re down to the wire where they’ll still accept a petition, and you’re pretty sure you’ll need to retake this semester if you have any hope of receiving your diploma. It’ll take years to pay off the school, but at least they’re treating the situation as though it’s a government-mandated payment plan or sorts.

Really, it just means you don’t have interest and they’re giving you the benefit of the doubt that if you make the payments they set up for you, they won’t take you to court.

You’ve spent enough time in court for a lifetime, and it wasn’t even for your own lawsuit.

The reality is that you just won’t be graduating this year with your friends. You don’t get to stay behind with Shoko who has a longer program either, you’re the one left behind in a sense.

“Thought we’d find you here,” the person of the hour leans forward into your vision, flashing you a peace sign in greeting.

Sighing, you will yourself to sit up, blinking in an effort to get your vision to focus after zoning out for so long. Just behind Shoko stands Kento, a barely disguised frown pulling at his lips, surely at the sight of you moping.

“How’d your finals go?” You query, stretching your arms.

Shoko’s brow raises at your hoarse tone, her gaze settling on your cheek. “Honestly, I might have to retake that course. I don’t know if I just wasn’t getting it or if the professor was pulling questions out of her ass but even if I pass, I feel like I should retake it,” she sighs. She quickly turns the tables back to you, though. “How long have you been here?”

With the sun hanging low in the sky, you shrug. “An hour, maybe?”

“You look like you’ve been laying on your cheek for like a day. Your dark circles have dark circles,” she snorts, though her gaze doesn’t share the humor in her tone. “Did you have lunch?”

“I had a smoothie.”

“That’s-” she sighs, exchanging a glance with Kento whose silence speaks volumes, “let’s just go get something, I’m starving.”

Picking your bag up off the ground, you sling it over your shoulder and follow Shoko’s lead to the food hall. The chatter is loud, a collective buzz breathed through the air as the year nears its end. For some it means summer jobs and long days off basking in the sun, while for others it means new opportunities and horizons.

You don’t care to think about what it means for you.

You’ll need to think about where to go when your lease is up at the end of August, and whether that means returning home or staying out here. You’ll need to consider how you’ll make enough to repay the school, while affording your own place if you stay here, but if you leave then it means leaving behind Sukuna.

You bring a hand up to your chest, mindlessly rubbing at it as your heart pangs, physically fighting back against the notion of leaving behind your dreams, your friends, and the man your heart has wrapped itself around.

But you’ve burnt out all of your options.

“Any luck on grants or loans?” Kento inquires as you make your way towards the campus go-to coffee shop.

You shake your head. “My parents couldn’t even afford to come to town for grad, I can’t get them here to sign something even if I ask and I can’t find any grants I qualify for.”

Kento’s frown deepens, a crease forming between his brows. “You haven’t told them?”

You purse your lips, guilt written across them in bright red. “Not yet. Do you know how disappointed they’ll be?”

“They won’t be disappointed to hear what you’ve done for Sukuna,” he points out without a hint of doubt.

“No, I mean- I know that,” you hesitate, your gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t mean disappointment in me I guess, just disappointed in general. They did so much so that I could follow my dreams.”

Kento hums in acknowledgement, surely about to give some sort of monumentally kind and thoughtful advice or insight, when Shoko chimes in. “I feel like we didn’t consider one of our other options with Kaori.”

She gains your and Kento’s attention.

With a deadpan expression, she shrugs. “We could just kill her.”

Kento sighs, bringing a hand up to his temple. “Shoko.”

“What?” She flashes him a challenging look. “I’m obviously joking,” she rolls her eyes. Sidling up to you, she murmurs “mostly” under her breath with a sly smile. “I’ll bury a body for you.”

You can’t help a little laugh at the concept, grateful for the two wildly different perspectives they each offer.

Shoko moves on quickly. “Have you tried that new Dragonfruit Espresso?” She leans in as you stand with her in line at the coffee shop with Kento in tow.

“That sounds awful,” you wrinkle your nose at the thought. “Isn’t Dragonfruit basically just water with seeds?”

“Live a little! C’mon, I’ll get you one,” she nudges you, pulling out her card. “I’ll get you a wrap, too.”

“I’ll just try some of yours, I don’t wanna waste any.”

Shoko groans dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Right as you begin to reply, your phone vibrates in your pocket. “Is it really so bad to just want my regular?” You retort with your best mustered smile, pulling your phone out. You stare at the number flashing across the screen. “I gotta take this, one moment.”

The sight of the Financial Aid Office calling has your heart dropping and your appetite drying up like a river in a drought. You suppose you’ve probably run out of time, so the best you can hope for now as they ask to see you in their office is a lenient repayment schedule.

“I gotta go, guys. It’s the Financial Aid Office,” you excuse yourself, mustering up as much casualty over the subject as you can. Shoko frowns, handing you a cup and a wrap.

“It’s not Dragonfruit, promise,” she points at the bland cup. You shoot her a grateful smile. “Call us after, okay?”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod and make your way across campus to the office.

The familiar employee who’s scarcely older than you flashes you a wide smile as you pass through the barrier of the doorway. Her bright and cheery expression has you hesitating to tenter the office, your mind twisted with confusion.

She greets you by name, waving her hand to the chair when you pause at her casualty. “Take a seat.”

You oblige, quietly crossing your legs. “Sorry, I was just… overthinking,” you chuckle in an attempt to brush off your uncertainty.

The Counsellor’s brows furrow, but she shakes her head quickly, the confusion dissipating. “Alright, I’m glad you were able to get everything figured out. I’ll be honest now that the President’s not here,” she laughs briefly, much more friendly without him looming over her shoulder. “I was upset for you when I connected the dots, so it’s good to see that Kamo Corporation isn’t holding you back.”

Too stunned to speak, you try to process her words, but nothing really clicks.

“Obviously due to the circumstances, you didn’t need to put in a formal petition and you’re set to take your exams at a later date. I printed out your schedule here-” she pauses, sliding across an exam schedule as if this news hasn’t short-circuited your entire being.

“What…?” You breathe, shakily reaching for the paper. Sure enough, you’re set to take your exam tomorrow on its regular date and your remaining three are scheduled for next week. “It’s paid? My tuition?” Your gaze whips up from the page, tightly gripped within your fingers.

Now she really does share your confusion, her lips pursed. “It was paid this morning,” she replies as though somehow this news isn’t tilting your world on its axis as you try to put together pieces that don’t fit quite right, their edges misaligned.

“By who?”

She turns to her computer, humming to herself. “Let’s see…”

The moments leading up to the revelation are heart-stopping. You can’t help but feel as though this is some sick trick being played by Kaori to really twist the knife, but you’ve barely told a soul.

Sukuna, Kento, Shoko, and Yuki.

That’s it. It’s not like any of them could afford to pay it and you can’t imagine the company did either. Maya can pull strings but paying a tuition is outside of the realm of a small company like that.

So… It has to be a sick trick. Something you’re missing.

She shakes her head upon looking at the account transfer. “Looks like we received it via Wire Transfer. I’ve got account numbers here, but there’s no name since it’s under your file.” She clicks on a couple more windows, but shakes her head again. “They probably spoke to my colleague this morning. I can ask him who he spoke to.”

“Please. I didn’t pay it,” you breathe. With the two of you finally on the same page, her eyes widen.

“For what it’s worth, it’s not the same account as your Kamo scholarship.”

You nod, but you can’t muster up any words, at a complete and utter loss. You’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, but…

What the hell?

“I don’t know who…” you trail off, as betwixt as you are overwhelmed staring at the exam schedule sitting in your trembling hands. You only told a handful of people and you were just with two of them. So that only leaves one.

Sukuna.

–

Maybe you should confirm it isn’t Kento or Shoko (who you did promise to call) before showing up unannounced at Sukuna’s door, but your heart brought you to the building before your mind even caught up. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since your exam schedule was handed over and you now very impatiently await someone for the buzzer at his apartment to click.

“Hello?”

You crack a smile at the sound of Choso’s voice crackling over the shitty old speaker. There’s comfort to be found in knowing that the boys are home again.

“Hey, Cho!” You greet cheerily over the speaker, anxiously fiddling with your exam schedule. “Does your brother have a moment?”

“Um-” loud static sizzles through the air as the brunette boy presumably checks what his brother is up to, followed by a muffled, “are you awake?” Your eyes narrow as you hear a series of groans and grumpy mutterings, followed by more illegible noise. When the static clears, Choso finally gives you an answer that sends your heart into overdrive as you recall why you’re here. “Yeah, he’s not busy.”

The line cuts out and the door clicks open. The way up to his apartment is spent with the sound of your drumming heart drowning out the ambient noise of the whirring air circulation within the building. Even the usual muffled laughter and sitcom laugh tracks from behind closed doors don’t pull you from your stupor, too caught up on the anticipation of whether or not your crush has pulled every string in the world just to fix things for you. Just to make sure you don’t go through a fraction of the pain his step-mother wants to put you through.

It’s not like this is really the kind of situation that warrants the word ‘just’ in that sentence, either. Because this doesn’t just fix things for you. This has been your one goal and dream since moving out here. If he did this for you, he didn’t just fix things for you.

And the feeling in your gut keeps screaming that it has to be him, that he knows just how much this means to you.

But with that impending and overwhelming sense of gratitude is an equally potent sense of uncertainty.

Strings like this don’t get pulled and tied in a fancy little bow without sacrifice. Maybe you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, maybe it isn’t him at all, but if it is…

What did he sacrifice for you?

Clutching your exam schedule tightly, you rhythmically knock on the door, fixating on the burnt out light down the hall. You can hear a grunt as– you assume– sukuna gets up, followed by a “who’d you let in?”

You don’t hear Choso’s answer, but you don’t need to as the door swings open a moment later. A portion of Sukuna’s weight is leaned against the door clutched in his hand as he drowsily attempts to make himself presentable after seeing you, as though he didn’t believe his brother in the moment. He rakes a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the wild strands of pink sticking out this way and that.

“Hey Kuna,” you greet him, fiddling with the paper in your hands as it wrinkles within your grip.

Rubbing his eyes, he blinks a number of times. “Hey, princess. You can–”

“Um–” In your eagerness to find an answer, you accidentally interrupt him. “Sorry! Go ahead.”

Sukuna blinks, having intended to let you go first, but in the haze of his exhaustion, you stammered an apology first. Fighting a yawn, he scratches the back of his neck. “I was just gonna see if you wanted to come in.”

“Oh-! Yeah, sure,” you smile, mentally facepalming at how strangled you’re making the interaction purely because you suspect he’s flipped your world on its head and your heart and mind haven’t quite caught up.

Stepping into the apartment, it’s growing fairly dark in the evening light, the sun setting over the horizon and bathing the ceiling in a fading pink. White light from the TV illuminates the faces of Sukuna’s younger brothers as Yuji shouts about something on the screen, oblivious to your arrival. To your delight, even Choso is groaning about something, as though the game’s been unfair.

It’s good to see him getting back to himself. Both of them, for that matter.

Turning back to Sukuna, whose attention is glued to you, urgency bleeds through your relief as you remember why you’re here. “Was this you?” You hold the paper out, practically pushing it into his chest.

His brow furrows as he takes the paper, scrutinizing it. It doesn’t take him long to figure it out, his lips parting. He inhales, long and slow, as though searching for an explanation, though all signs point to this being his doing. Every moment feels one step closer to panic as your mind reels over what he could have done to pull this off.

“Kuna, please tell me this isn’t like the kids’ college funds or something, I–”

“It’s not.” His adam’s apple bobs as he stares down at you with that familiar little scowl, as though he hasn’t quite pieced together what to say. “I just took on a little extra work.”

After the week you’ve had, that’s all it takes for everything to overflow. Choking on a sob, simultaneously relieved and in disbelief, you barrel into him, burying your face into his chest. Your tears stain his t-shirt as he blinks incredulously at the sudden bout of tears, affection, and gratefulness all poured into one hug.

Getting his bearings, his arms wrap around you tightly. Leaning his head down, he drops his chin to the top of your head and holds you, strong and unmoving. His warmth grounds you, his arms acting as your safety, catching you before you can fall.

Sucking in a breath, you pull back enough to murmur something, muffled by the fabric hanging loosely from his shoulders. “What did you do?”

As you shift to look up at him, he lifts his head, his expression softening. “Told ya. I took on a bit of extra work.”

“A bit?” You echo his statement, shaking your head with a small sniffle. “Sukuna, I owed thousands. What kind of work–”

You’re interrupted by Yuji, who gasps upon pausing his rant when he catches wind that you’ve shown up. Shouting your name, he runs over to you both, wrapping one arm around each of your legs.

Your laughter cuts through the tears and you quickly wipe them on your sleeves, attempting to cover up any evidence. “Hey, Yu,” you greet with a smile, ruffling his hair.

The little boy’s expression twists into a pout, unfortunately clocking your movements. “Are you crying?” He asks suspiciously. He doesn’t give you a second to answer, too busy placing blame. “If Kuna made you cry, I’ll put him in time out.”

The eldest brother clicks his tongue as you laugh. “They’re happy tears, honey. No time out for Kuna. Yet.”

He playfully flicks your forehead, disgruntled at the onslaught of teasing.

“Happy tears?” The boy parrots your statement, tilting his head as he attempts to connect the dots despite missing most of the picture.

“Mhm,” you affirm, one hand still firmly gripping Sukuna’s shirt. “Your brother did something that means a lot to me.”

“Oh,” Yuji peers up at his brother, his mouth in the shape of a curious ‘O’. “Good job Kuna,” he pats his brother’s leg twice before padding away to the living room, plopping back down beside Choso who watches with a little smile. They both return to their game as you turn back towards Sukuna, leaning your head against his built chest, unable to contain your laughter.

Even Sukuna finds humor in the five-year-old’s constant ability to embarrass him, his chest softly rumbling. With one hand still gripping your waist, the other settles atop your head. He gently strokes your hair as your chuckles subside, sliding his hand to the base of your head to tilt your gaze back up to meet his. His thumb brushes the base of your jaw, softly stroking below your ear.

The silence that rests in the balance between you is easy.

It’s not the kind where he’s desperately seeking the warmth you provide, eager to bask in a moment of reprieve. It’s not the kind where words are left hanging in the balance as you try to figure one another out. It’s not even the kind where you’re exchanging an unspoken dialogue.

It’s peace.

It’s the reassurance that in spite of everything, you make one another stronger.

It’s the comfort for you in knowing that your future is secured, and solace for Sukuna in knowing he can do something for you, provide for you in one way or another.

It’s the assurance he needs to know he can be the one you fall back on, not the one who causes your downfall.

A tremulous breath escapes your lips as you cling to the fabric of his shirt, averting your gaze. “What did– how did you do it? Like, really.”

A steady breath releases from his nose. He shoots a glance at his brothers before taking your waist and leading the way to the hall, out of sight. “Took on another job.”

“Like, a full-time one?” A crease forms between your brows as you consider the repercussions of him dealing with two full-time jobs and two kids on top of the responsibilities he needs to fulfill in order to satisfy the court. It was too much to handle school and two part-time jobs when you first met, and the stress of everything now seems equal, if not greater.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “I can do it in my own time, though. Maya’s givin’ me a break on my working hours too. As long as I stay on top of shit, they’re both willing to be flexible.”

Even with flexibility, it doesn’t inspire confidence. Stray tufts of hair still stick up on the left side of his head, a bleary haze remaining within his irises that betrays the fact that this is still a lot for him.

“That’s-” you hesitate, searching for words that don’t diminish the massive act of grandeur he’s done for you, but still portrays your concern. “What if you wear yourself thin?” It’s not exactly the concern you were hoping to lay out, but it’s something.

His jaw clenches. “I’m not the same guy from a few months ago. I’ll ask for help.” His hand rests on your waist, pulling you closer. His tone remains low, his voice reassuring when he speaks up again at your silence.

He can see the guilt written in the creases of your frown, wearing your emotions on your sleeve.

“Look, it’s just for a couple of years and it’s not like I haven’t done it before. I’m just–” he cuts himself off, glancing aside as he musters up his courage, something he only seems to lack when it comes to you, completely flustered under your sweet gaze. “I’m hopin’ I can rely on you for a bit of help.”

You reach up to reassuringly grab his bicep, stray thoughts intruding your mind that you need to shake to stay focused when the muscle bulges in your grasp. “Of course you can, but two years? I can’t let you do that, you’ve gotta let me take on the job.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “It’s not in your field, princess.”

“That’s a bad excuse,” you murmur.

Sukuna cracks a smile at your sweet pout. “Maybe,” he agrees. “But you know how I think.”

The furrow to your brow deepens in confusion.

He steps forward, his breath hot on your cheeks as he closes the distance between you, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Let me do this for you. Let me repay you.” He watches the way your lips press into a thin line, coming to understand the meaning behind his words. “I want to do this,” he states, settling his other hand on your waist and crowding you against the wall.

“Kuna…” you breathe, still hesitant. Casting a glance aside for a reprieve from the intensity of your pounding heart and the close proximity of his insistence, you chew on your lower lip. “Two years is a long time. That’s so much of your life.”

His crimson gaze is unreadable as it flickers around your face. His fingers curl into your waist as his gravelly voice gains a teasing lilt. “It’s two years I wouldn’t have had if your stubborn ass wasn’t looking out for me.” He swallows, adding more cynically, “who knows what bar I’d be at two years from now if you didn’t figure shit out.”

“Don’t say that,” you murmur, the thought alone stirring up discomfort in the very marrow that keeps you upright. Fiddling with the material of his shirt beneath your fingers, you grip onto him a little tighter.

Sensing that he went a hair too far, he frowns, but presses on. “Look princess, two years is nothin’ and the work is easy enough and it’s art. It’s something I like and I still get vacation time and all that shit.” His head tilts slightly, lips brushing yours in the dim hallway. “This,” he murmurs with a short pause, “this is all I want,” he states, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he can hear Yuji whining over Choso winning their game, as if to prove his point. “I’d like to think I still got a few years to spend with you all before I bite the dust,” he smirks.

“With all of us?” You echo, unable to help a little bit of banter as the mood lightens and the air around you shifts. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Kuna?”

“No,” he quickly retorts, immediately backtracking to save you both the miscommunication. “Not because I don’t want to.” He clears his throat. “Just wanna do it right.”

“I thought we went over this,” you tease. “That I don’t want ‘right’.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Just let me have this.”

Sliding a hand up from his chest to the column of his neck, your thumb brushes along the freshly-shaved stubble dotting his jaw. He tilts his head to allow your nails to graze his throat, quietly examining the way your eyes trail along the tattoos that accentuate his jaw.

“Okay,” you agree with a quiet whisper, letting your hand settle on his cheek as you guide him to your lips. He lets you take the lead, slow, soft, and grateful as he swallows your gentle sigh. Despite the gentle cadence of the kiss, his hands are more insistent, squeezing your waist, sliding down to your hips like he still can’t believe you’re his to hold.

At least, almost his to hold.

Something he would need to remind himself as he chokes on his own low groan. You separate from him immediately, slapping a hand harshly over his lips, only to realize that’s the least of your problems as something hard tents his sweats, prodding your stomach.

“Sukuna!” You hiss, making a pointed motion with your thumb back over your shoulder as a reminder that now is not the time in spite of your simpering smile.

He huffs, still holding you as he stands upright and leans his forehead against the wall with a low thump. Your hand slips back down to his chest as he towers over you. “Didn’t do it on purpose,” he begrudgingly grumbles. “It’s just dark and we’re whispering and your hips–”

Admittedly, that does make you feel good. Undeniably so, pride and warmth surging through your chest and between your thighs as he leans over you.

He had hoped that the feeling of the cold wall on his skin would help calm the fire roaring in his stomach, but it does little to quell it. “When’s your first exam?” He mutters, his eyes shut as he attempts to think of anything but the way you feel in his grasp.

“Tomorrow. They’re having me make up the ones I missed next week.”

“That’s good.” He swallows hard, clearly only half-focused on the conversation.

“Mhmm,” you agree, sliding your hands down his chest and over his washboard abs.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, grabbing both of your wrists in one big palm. “Don’t,” he warns, his grip tightening when you giggle at his strangled reaction. “Brat.”

Once you’re done teasing, you slip out from under him, fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you’re unable to help a prideful smile.

He shoots you a frown, adjusting his pants as if it’ll do anything to hide the fact that he’s painfully hard when he turns to face you. He crosses his arms over his chest, a majority of his weight leaning against the wall.

Ignoring the heated feeling in your own stomach that makes your heart flutter and your mind reel, you force yourself to look away. Sukuna’s a big guy and it only makes sense that he would be big to match that, but between that very obvious fact and the idea that he’s very experienced, your mind seems hellbent on digging up feelings of inadequacy and nerves.

In an effort to push the thoughts away and give you both something to focus on, you return to the reason you’re here in the first place. “What’ll you be doing for the job?”

“Got lucky with it, honestly.” He beats around the bush in an attempt to avoid letting you know that Satoru’s also doing you a favor. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to know how supportive your friend is, but that he doesn’t want you to feel indebted to the white-haired man and Sukuna. He wants you to be free to live your life. “Some financial tech company that’s a subsidiary of an investment firm that hates Kamo Corp. They’re a decent brand and running some huge marketing campaign over the next couple of years to get people to switch from a rival brand that Kamo invested in and they need a designer for it. I think how public everything was with the trial actually made them pretty willing to work out a deal.”

Your lips part at his explanation, picking at the stitching of your sweater. “Will you make any money off of it?”

He nods, shifting in an effort to dispel his issue. “They can’t legally not pay me, it’s just a slightly cut salary for a couple of years and they’re just treating it as an additional employment income, kinda like a benefit or something.”

“So… you’re still making money off of it too?”

He nods. If he’s being honest with himself, the salary is pretty much the bare minimum for something of this caliber, but realistically the amount they’ve paid off for your tuition and the way they went about it to avoid being taxed to hell and back is more than he would ever make in this position anyway with no degree. Not to mention it looks good on a resumé, and the work and their branding are enjoyable enough.

It doesn’t feel like two years wasted to him. He knows that’s exactly what’s rattling around in your brain, but he would do it all over again if it makes your life easier. If it means you don’t call him in tears, he’ll work for the rest of his life. But that all goes without saying, he’s more than pleased to be working in a field he enjoys anyway.

“Are you sure I can’t take like a year or something?”

Sure enough, there’s that worry rattling around in your mind. “Princess,” Sukuna steps forward, playing with fire given that he’s only just gotten his hard-on to go down and he can still feel that tension simmering in his clenched abdomen. The rough pads of his thumb and forefinger grip your chin, tilting it up so that he can kiss you.

“You can repay me by letting me have a redo on our date next Friday, after your exams.”

“Suku-”

He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours again. “Shut up,” he murmurs, his chest rising and falling heavily under your fingers as he exercises the most restraint he can muster when he pulls back. “Go get your diploma.”

Surging forward to wrap your arms around him again, you bury your face in his chest. There’s something sweet and reassuring to find that his heart might even be in a race with yours, neck in neck as they speed up. “Thank you, Kuna.”

His hand gently rubs your back. “Mhm.”

As much as your heart yearns to stay and spend time with him and his brothers, you know better than to go into a final without studying given that Sukuna quite literally bought this back for you. Even still, you’re hesitant to pull away.

“I should go study then,” you breathe.

Sukuna hums again, his gaze calmly fixated on you. As you excuse yourself and give a quick hello and goodbye to his little brothers, Sukuna follows you with his hands in his pockets.

Shuffling your shoes back on, you turn to face him. “What if you burn out, or-”

“Quit worryin’ your pretty little head.”

“But you already seem tired,” you pout, incapable of letting go.

“That’s because a certain someone woke me up at five whining about wanting pancakes,” he replies, his voice rising just enough for the kids to hear him.

“Thaaank you Kunaaaaa!” Yuji calls, just barely paying attention over the music of his game.

Sukuna’s lip pulls down into a frown, but you know him. You know for all his huffs and grumbles, he’ll move mountains for his brothers. Even if it means getting up before dawn and napping in the late afternoon.

Your smile softens. “Okay. I’ll do whatever I can to help, then.”

He hums again. “Go ace your exams first, princess.”