You wake up in the infirmary, back in your usual room. The wall beside you is covered in long vertical blinds; over your head, the glaring lights blind you. You're propped up on a hard, uneven bed with rails at the sides. The pillows are flat and lumpy. There's an annoying beeping coming from the numerous machines nearby, which you take to mean as a good sign; you're still alive, after all.
A quick sweep of the room reveals it to be empty. You press the red call button, and Ieiri walks in seconds later, dark bruises ringing her eyes. It's good to see a familiar face; your lips lift up into a smile, which Ieiri returns.
"Good, you're up." Once you're given a clean bill of health, she begins the complicated process of unhooking you from the machines and removing the clear wires from your hands and nose. "Gave us quite a scare."
You ask a question you already know the answer to. "What happened?"
"Vitals dropped. Alarms sounded. The usual." Ieiri shrugs. "Second time this month, [ NAME ]. You sure you're not pushing yourself too hard?"
One of the more nasty side-effects of being born with a Heavenly Restriction – in exchange for copious amounts of Cursed Energy and the ability to use a remarkable Reverse Cursed Technique, you've been dealt with a frail and sickly body, which can't even do its job right most of the time. You're made constantly made all too aware of your own fleeting mortality; considering how your own body might give out on you one day, or how you might just as easily be eliminated by a Curse instead.
You shake your head. You try to relax as the last tubes are eased out from your flesh; tensing only worsens the whole ordeal, and generally makes it feel as though you're being stabbed in reverse. "I'm fine. Can I go?"
"You sure you don't want to stay and take the day off?" Ieiri asks, scribbling something down on a clipboard. You're fairly sure that the file she's complied on your condition must be full to bursting by now. "Most kids would jump at the chance to play hooky."
"Thank you, but no. I think Gojo-sensei's actually teaching today." On your pillow, your phone buzzes. You unlock it to behold a message from Gojo, overuse of emojis and all.
Got a surprise 4 u!! XD
That can't be anything good.
"A miracle." Ieiri shakes her head and laughs throatily. "You know, you wouldn't need to come here so often if you just kept using your Technique."
"Yeah, but what if my friends need healing and I don't have any Cursed Energy left to do it?" You counter, just as quickly. "This is fine."
After exchanging the cotton of your nightgown for the wool blazer and skirt of your school uniform, you check through the rest of your messages and hurry to class. Maki and Inumaki have both texted you, asking you if you're alright in varying degrees of concern, and if you'll be coming to class today. Even though it's likely that they won't see your message until break time, you reply anyway, telling them that you're on your way and to save you a seat.
You walk up the steps into the main building, nodding to the familiar faces of the faculty. You know that Gojo won't fault you for being late, but panic still fuels your footsteps and forces you into hurrying down the hallway. You don't stop until you reach the door to your homeroom.
You hear the shouting before you even open the door. Your immediate thought is that something's happened, someone's hurt. The thought sends you into a fresh panic, tightens your chest until you can hardly breathe.
You fling open the door, and the wave of malice that hits you is so strong that it almost doubles you over. It's something that congeals in the pit of your stomach, like rotten milk. A curse? Here?
"DON'T BULLY YUTA!"
The sound that erupts is like nothing you've ever heard before, the hoarse cry of a dying animal that vibrates through your whole body, scraping over your skin like claws. You catch a glimpse of two large hands, jagged nails.
You don't think. You don't even hesitate. You dart in front of your friends, shielding their bodies with their own. Gojo once told you that only the craziest can survive as Shamans, and if there's any proof that you'll fit into this world, this is it.
There's a furious high whine and someone – no, more than one person – screams your name. There's a feeling of heat all through your body and the sensation of being lifted, thrown, by a huge hand, a giant's hand; the ground revolves, turns upside down and sideways, and then a fog of darkness eats up the edges of your vision, turning everything to dream.
"[ NAME ]!"
"Tuna, tuna!"
"Rika-chan, stop! Don't hurt [ NAME ] any more!"
"Ow." You say, sprawled out on the floor in a heap. Gojo is there instantly, keeping a bracing hand on the small of your back as you struggle to sit up. A sharp pain in your chest feels like a steak knife, and needles radiate down your arms. You try not to gasp for air, despite the fact that you're dizzy. "That's some power. Hey, how come Okkotsu's here? I thought he didn't want to leave that little room of his!"
"I think you've got a concussion," Gojo says, his fingers probing gently along the base of your skull.
You wince. "No! I mean, yes! I mean, I don't know. Maybe?"
"You're an idiot!" Maki snaps, but worry frays the edges of her voice. "What the hell were you thinking?"
You find your voice as you activate your Reverse Cursed Technique. The dizziness and fatigue surge up again briefly, but then pale to background static behind your eyes. "I don't think I was."
Yuta's breathing is ragged and hurried. Fear slithers in your gut. Not for yourself, but for him. You've never seen anyone look so desolate, so utterly broken. The bleakness in his eyes frightens you. There's almost no life in him. He's grey as death with deep shadows in all the angles and planes of his face.
"Okkotsu?" Yuta stares at you, looking lost and scared and haunted; you're overcome by the sudden urge to take his hand. Instead, you smile at him, bright and warm like the beam of a flashlight. "You remembered my name! I'm glad!"
Yuta wilts.
