Oc's A Little Ball Of Ptsd - Blog Posts

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

"after they leave, it's just the voices and i."

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–pairings: itadori yuuji x oc

– warning: mentions of death, fluff, canon divergent, pre-shibuya arc

– author’s note: more lore!! i swear ill be getting into the action soon but uh,,, this series might end up longer than expected

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

“Well, we should be off.”

My gaze snapped up to meet honey-brown eyes once more, those two little marks underneath Itadori’s eyes, as if they were another set of eyes, stared back at me. His pout was evident, expressions freely displayed in contrast to Fushiguro’s poker face. Yet even with his judgemental gaze, I plastered on a smile.

“Ah, is it that late already?” Nobara sighed, and I lightly shoved her shoulder.

“It’s late enough,” Fushiguro, grabbed Itadori’s sleeve. “We should leave you to unpack.”

“I almost forgot about that, but thanks for the reminder.”

I walked the two to the door, Nobara getting a headstart on cleaning up the mess – considering that she did make the most of it – while Itadori continued to pout at the lack of time spent together.

“Dang, I was hoping to get to know you better,” He huffed, before letting out a radiant smile once more. “I’m sure we’ll meet tomorrow though! When will you be free?”

I glance behind the door, seeing a big thumbs up from Nobara, and I turn back to Itadori, sucking in wince.

“I mean, I’m still pretty busy unpacking, so uh… no, I’m not free. Sorry.”

“Oh, uh, that’s alright. What about the day after– OW!”

A fist was lowered on Itadori’s head, and I couldn’t help but let out a genuine wince, seeing how hard he was hit on the head.

“Leave it at that, Yuuji,” Fushiguro sighed. “She’s busy, so leave her be.”

“Alright, alright, no need to get violent,” He huffed before turning to me, letting out a little hopeful smile. “Well uh, hope to see you around then?”

“Yeah,” The twinkle in his eye set off a little feeling of nausea in me. “Around. Sure.”

“Great! See you around!” 

“You said that twice, idiot,” Fushiguro sighed, pulling Itadori away by the back of the collar of his shirt.

“Thanks for lunch, by the way!” I called out before turning to close my dorm door, but not without Itadori gleefully yelling back ‘You’re welcome!’

“Busy, huh?” Nobara chimed. “I was hoping you weren’t too busy for me.”

“You’re always welcome, Nobara,” I sigh, walking over to help her clean up.

“So you don’t like them?”

“It’s not that I don’t like Itadori and Fushiguro. I just didn’t come here to make friends. I came here to become stronger, to fight for myself and others.”

“Sheesh, straight to the point,” She shrugs. “Can’t blame you for that. But hey, here’s to hoping we’ll be in the same class. I need another gal in my class, not sure how much longer I can tolerate those guys.”

“Hah! You handle them perfectly fine, Nobara, don’t take yourself for granted,” I pat her on the back as I take the two small plastic bags of trash, chucking them into my bin.

“Hey, you handled them well too, although it was in a silent, deadly-stare kinda way,” She muttered the last bit, before sighing and walking towards my dorm door.

“Heading out?”

“Yeah, unless you want me to stay on and help,” She then pointed at my eyes. “Though I can tell your social battery is practically dead.”

I let a smile slip onto my features, and that’s enough for her to know. She lowers her hand, reaching for the door as I hear it click open.

“You know me too well, Nobara. I’ll see you around?”

“Just text or call me, dork,” She calls out, the door closing behind her.

A soft laugh escapes me, and I’m left alone in the silence again. I look over to my suitcase, before getting up to lock my door. Once that was done, I seat myself back by my barely unpacked suitcase. 

I didn’t pack many clothes. It wasn’t like I needed anything more than my uniform and maybe a few casual outing clothes. I was here to learn, maybe hang with Nobara, but nothing more, nothing less.

As soon as my clothes were kept away in the cupboard, the photo in my bag caught my eye. It was enough to capture my full attention, and I closed my wardrobe shut, walking over to my case to take the paper image instead.

“Mama.”

Her eyes, shining like stars in the dark vast of space, were filled with such warmth, her arms wrapped around a much smaller version of me and my baby brother. My father stood behind her, a wide smile stretched across his cheeks.

We looked happy.

Never did I ever think I would see my father’s smile again. But it would always be there in my memories, in my pictures, reminding me of my wrongs – my mistakes; my actions.

My thumb rubs across the surface of the once-fond memory, swiping off the tears that landed on it. Couldn’t afford to lose more of what once was. I sit on my bed, feeling the mattress sink under me. The picture sits on my bedside table, but a feeling of longing and irritation nags me.

I suck my teeth in annoyance, and all that’s left is to face whatever’s eating at me.

I find myself standing in the middle of the room, taking one last look at us, smiling without care. I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling through my notes before landing on a specific one. I’ve never cast this technique for a single reason, but I needed advice now more than ever.

Taking one last glance at the little text on my screen, I turned my phone off, returning all my focus to my newest technique.

“Beyond the grave and from the dead.”

It started with flickering lights. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t afford distractions, I couldn’t afford to mess up again.

“I beseech the knowledge within your head.”

The windows rattled and the rapid flickering of the lightbulbs worsened.

“I seek your guidance, oh passing spirit. Until my time has reached its limit.”

Silence. It surrounded me, everything deathly still. My eyes opened, and I was in darkness. A dim light glowed from the lights above, though I doubted that the lights were this purple before.

My back straightened, and I let out a sigh of relief, a weight lifting off my chest. I slipped a card out of my pocket, my thumb rubbing against the sigil of the Eight of Wands. I held it straight before me, upright, as I forced the next words out of my mouth.

“I now reveal Yamomoto Chizuru, wife of Shu Daichi, and former user of the Spiritual Technique.”

And there she stood, eyes warm as ever, despite the coldness they held in her dying moments. A smile rested on her lips, arms outstretched in welcome.

“Tsubame,” Her voice filled my ears, and my vision watered with newly unshed tears. “How good it is to finally speak to you.”

“Okaa-san.”

gif by @heycaz

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