Pleasure and Insanity

Act 2: Demise

"How's my grandfather?" Yuji asked in a desperate tone at the doctor when he saw him. The doctor only gave him a sad look, shaking his head. 

Dread hung heavy in the air as Yuji anxiously inquired about his grandfather's condition from the doctor. His voice, laced with desperation, trembled with the weight of uncertainty. The doctor, meeting his gaze with a sorrowful expression, responded with a solemn look, silently conveying the ominous truth by shaking his head.

"His life is hanging on by a thread... You should talk to him, Yuji. He needs you more than ever." The doctor only gave him a small encouragement, knowing all too well what was going to happen in a few moments.

Yuji's gaze rested upon his grandfather's feeble and delicate form. The room enveloped itself in an ominous hush, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machine standing beside his grandfather, its desperate attempts to sustain life echoing through the somber space.

"I'm so sorry, Yuji." He spoke to him before leaving the room to give the two some privacy.

The man stood still as he was deep in his thoughts, he couldn't understand why this had happened so suddenly. Yuji knew that his grandfather was frail and old, and just this morning when he visited him, he was much more lively.

What went wrong?

The doctor's words reverberated in Yuji's thoughts, a haunting response to the unspoken fears that had taken root. His grandfather had been entrenched in a prolonged battle with a chronic illness, and their family's affluence had afforded them the means to wage war against it.

Yet, the doctor had somberly acknowledged that their resources could only do so much. The insidious nature of his grandfather's ailment defied precise predictions, rendering it challenging to determine when it would inevitably exert its toll, with any interventions merely serving as a temporary reprieve.

So they urged Yuji to steel himself when that time comes.

"Yuji?" His grandfather suddenly called out, though weak and soft, Yuji was able to hear him. Snapping himself from his train of thoughts as he rushed towards his grandfather's side, tears were already dripping beside his handsome features.

The old man tried to caress the child's tears softly, even though his body was too tired for that.

"D-Don't cry now, Yuji. Smile. I've lived for... far too long." He smiled softly at Yuji. "Knowing that you've grown such a fine man... I've got no regrets leaving you." Hearing this, Yuji sobbed and pulled his relative's hand closer to his face, feeling whatever warmth left it could emit.

Itadori Yuji bore the heavy label of an orphan, left alone by his parents before he could etch their faces into memory. 

Yet, his grandfather stepped into the role of guardian, guiding him through the tumultuous journey of childhood, high school, and college. Through the ebbs and flows of life, whether marred by hardships or adorned with joy, Yuji always found solace in the unwavering presence of his grandfather by his side.

And seeing his only relative depart from this world, it's just too much to bear.

"N-No...! Old man... please. Don't leave me." Yuji spoke as he sobbed, no matter how much he was holding back on crying, his throat always betrayed him. "You're the only one I have in this world!" He pleaded, trying to convince him to stay even though it was for naught.

No one can stay forever. All will inevitably leave this world.

"Yuji..." His grandfather tried to speak, but it was so hard on him that he coughed. "My dear Yuji... My boy." He wheezed, fighting against his throat squeezing and the hold of death wearing him down.

"I've always... loved you." He continued, his vision started to turn black but he continued speaking. "... And so proud of you... like my son." He continued trying to scoop up the last heartfelt praises he could to Yuji, despite the state of his dying body.

"Old man..." Yuji could only say his only form of endearment to the frail guy. His grandfather hated this at first from Yuji, but over time he got used to it, and over time, he had always loved Yuji's calling him his "old man".

"I'll pass down my company to you..." He uttered, the cadence of his voice slowing, and Yuji couldn't help but notice the shallowness of his breaths matching the fading rhythm of the once-steady beeps.

"I-I... I don't know if I can handle running the company," Yuji hesitated in his response, met only by a feeble chuckle attempted through a cough that escaped, Yuji could feel the weakening grasp of his grandfather.

"I believe in you, My Yuji..." He strained to extend his reach, attempting to tousle his grandson's pink locks, but his efforts were restrained by the limitations imposed by both medication and the weariness of old age. His hand rested gently on Yuji's head, a silent testament to the enduring bond between them.

"Promise me to stay strong, Yuji..." He heaved, slowly closing his eyes. "And keep the company going-- no matter what...."

The old man's hand descended heavily to his side, a fleeting brush against Yuji's face as the remnants of his life force dissipated. The clamorous beats of the monitor beside him seemed to drown the room in a symphony of tragedy and sorrow. Yuji struggled to grasp the reality of the moment, his mind grappling with the weight of the profound loss that had just unfolded.

Doctors and nurses swiftly entered the room, their urgent movements aimed at resuscitating the old man. However, despite their valiant efforts, it became painfully clear that their endeavors were in vain. The once bustling room now hung heavy with the profound silence of an irreversible loss..

 A while later, he found himself inside his home, still dumbfounded by everything.

A surreal numbness settled over Yuji as he entertained a fleeting thought, a desperate yearning that perhaps he needed to wake up from this cruel reality. In his mind's eye, he envisioned his grandfather seated in the familiar dining room, savoring his favorite drink, ready to offer a warm 'good morning' greeting. 

Yet, the harsh truth of the silent, empty space persisted, shattering the fragile illusion.

It was his reality now—The cold, tragic truth.

A lone teardrop traced a path down Yuji's cheek, a silent precursor to the heartbreaking symphony that ensued as he crumbled to the ground, his sobs echoing in mournful harmony.

The absence of someone cherished throughout the ages is an indescribable bitterness that seeps into every fiber of your being. It is a profound sorrow— an elegy of the deepest and most poignant sadness.

Yuji reached for his wallet, extracting a weathered photograph capturing a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of him and his grandfather from years past. Clutching it close to his chest, he held onto the cherished image, tears staining the paper as he wept inconsolably.

"Promise me to stay strong, Yuji... And keep the company going... no matter what."

The parting words of his old man reverberated incessantly in Yuji's mind. Across the extensive duration spent with his grandfather, not once had the old man let him down. Yuji was not one to disregard promises, and now, in this solemn moment, he was determined to honor that unspoken vow.

— Yuji's binding vow to his Old Man.