Nurturing Through the Darkness

by kalika_999

Notes:

• For nununununu.

Scenario - Sick Character Has Never Been Cared For While Sick; Gets Taken Care of For the First Time

The storm was already clawing at the mountain path by the time they returned.

The safehouse was a small, two room ryokan nestled in a half forgotten valley built long before reinforced Jujutsu lodgings were standard, its walls thin and rooms drafty with age. But it was the closest shelter within range after the mission, and Yuuta had barely managed to stay upright long enough for Toge to shove open the door and haul him inside.

He was burning up before his knees even hit the futon.

Toge knelt and steadied Yuuta’s weight with quiet strength, his hands trembling only once as he pressed them to Yuuta’s ribs and realized how violently he was shivering.

The curse was dead, its body reduced to ash in the shattered remains of the temple floor. But it was the technique it released before dying that was something else entirely.

Residual.

Invasive.

Toge hadn’t seen what it cast, only the way Yuuta staggered two steps back, his cursed energy flaring instinctively as he took the brunt of it. Like ink poured into water, Toge had seen something dark had bled across his collarbone then vanished beneath the skin.

Yuuta, of course, had insisted it was nothing. “We should check for lingering shikigami.” He had muttered, lips pale, even as his hands shook. “I’ll heal once we get somewhere warmer.”

But an hour later, RCT still wouldn’t activate. The cursed technique the curse itself had wormed just deep enough to interfere. Something like poison. Or an infection.

Now, Yuuta lay flat beneath three layered blankets, soaked with sweat, his dark hair plastered to his temples and lips cracked from fever. One leg twitched involuntarily with every spike of heat.

He hadn’t spoken in almost an hour.

Toge sat on the floor beside him, a bowl of cool water resting on a folded towel to catch the drips. He dipped the cloth in again silently and wrung it tightly between his hands before pressing it to Yuuta’s neck. The motion was practiced, but slow, almost reverent. As if he thought moving too fast might hurt him.

The room was dim, lit only by a single flickering paper lantern pushed toward the far wall. He’d closed the shoji as soon as they arrived, but wind still hissed at the cracks, carrying with it the distant whine of the storm outside.

Yuuta stirred. His breath caught, then escaped in a soft, rasping croak. “Toge?”

Toge froze for only a second, then he set the cloth aside and leaned in, brushing matted hair from Yuuta’s eyes. I’m here. He signed carefully, letting his fingers hover in Yuuta’s line of sight. You’re safe.

Yuuta gave a barely there nod, like it took all his effort to move.

“You didn’t sleep..” He murmured.

Toge shook his head. A single, slow shrug followed. I didn't want to miss anything.

“Did I..pass out?”

Toge signed again. Fever hit hard. You couldn’t stand so I carried you..mostly.

That made Yuuta groan softly. He turned his face into the pillow and muttered something shameful under his breath. Toge couldn’t hear it, but he recognized the look that followed. Embarrassed. Guilty. He always felt guilty.

“You didn’t have to..” Yuuta began, then winced.

Toge placed a hand on his chest, just enough pressure to still him. When both hands were free again, he answered. Let me. Just this once.

Yuuta blinked slowly, watching them. Then, like something inside him unclenched, he seemed to relinquish some of that control and it suddenly felt as if some tension had escaped the room.

The hours passed in a strange kind of hush punctuated only by the whisper of rain against the roof tiles and the occasional soft groan from Yuuta as the fever twisted through him.

Toge didn’t leave his side once.

He wet cloths, poured tea, sat with his back against the futon and let Yuuta lean against his shoulder when the trembling got too bad. He signed whenever Yuuta’s eyes opened, slow and visible. Sometimes Yuuta would respond out loud. Sometimes with his fingers.

When the fever began to crest in earnest, Yuuta went quiet again, sick in the way that terrified Toge, the kind where movement became too much. He shifted closer, lifting Yuuta’s upper body gently to help him sip lukewarm water, he made sure Yuuta’s lips were moist and fixated that he wouldn’t cause him to choke.

“You’re really good at this.” Yuuta whispered at one point. “Taking care of people.”

Toge didn’t answer immediately. He set the cup aside, wiped Yuuta’s mouth with the corner of the blanket, then lifted his hands again. I had to be.

Yuuta blinked at him, slowly. “What do you mean?”

Toge hesitated and then his expression softened. No one ever did it for me. When I was younger. I got used to figuring it out alone.

There was no anger in the motion. No bitterness. It was just a fact of life for him. Then after a long pause he added. I didn’t want to end up like them. So I learned how to care.

Yuuta reached up. His hand trembled, but Toge caught it without hesitation, their fingers folding together like they’d done it a hundred times before.

“You didn’t just learn it, Inumaki-kun.” Yuuta rasped. “You’re better at this than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Toge hesitated. That seemed like too much of a compliment, even from someone like Yuuta. Eventually he leaned in, pressed their foreheads together and shifted hands to tangle in between them like a grounding tether.

Yuuta didn’t speak again after that. He just closed his eyes. And Toge stayed exactly where he was.

Hours later, when the wind began to rattle the shutters again, Yuuta was finally lost to a proper sleep, his breaths came slower now, deeper. Toge continued not to move. He didn’t reach for his phone to scroll or text, didn’t check the time, didn’t take any sips of water so that Yuuta had plenty in the ready. He only stayed, hovering over his love protectively for as long as he would need him.

*****

Yuuta woke slowly, the kind of waking up that felt more like surfacing and breaching a body of water, lungs half full of exhaustion. His limbs felt heavy and foreign, the way they did after cursed technique overuse, but duller somehow. Softer. A distant ache radiated from beneath his skin, not sharp, but a steady constant hum of reminder.

The blankets over him were still warm. Tucked around with a gentleness he didn’t remember, but could feel. One corner had been folded under his shoulder to keep it in place. A hand’s careful work that was not his own.

Light filtered through the shoji in faint ribbons, thin and grey. It was late morning, maybe past noon, but the sky outside looked sunless, colorless, pressed flat with clouds. Wind rattled faintly along the outer eaves. The storm had dulled, but not vanished.

His head turned slowly on the pillow to see Toge sat at his side, cross-legged, a thermos cup cradled in both hands. His eyes met Yuuta’s at once not with surprise or alarm, just soft awareness. Like he’d been watching the whole time, but without any weight behind it. Just there and present.

Yuuta opened his mouth, throat raw. “..Hey.”

His voice cracked, too raspy and rough, followed by a cough where he immediately curled in on himself. The motion was more reflex than strength but Toge was already reaching for the pitcher beside him before he poured water into a small ceramic cup and held it to Yuuta’s lips without hesitation. It was room temperature, easy on his throat and Toge waited for Yuuta to sip, then withdrew slowly.

Yuuta exhaled like it took effort and blinked slowly, his eyes paler as he peered upwards and groggy. “You’re still here?”

Toge smiled faintly, brows twitching upward in quiet amusement. I told you I would be, and where would I go? I won’t leave you.

He kept being careful to make sure Yuuta could see each formation of each word. No rush. No drama. Just visible enough to read without straining. Yuuta’s eyes tracked every gesture, and he breathed another shallow laugh.

“I didn’t dream it, then.”

Toge shook his head. You slept thirteen hours. Fever finally broke around sunrise.

Yuuta let his eyes drift closed again. “It felt like I was in a furnace.” He murmured. “Everything constantly ached, even dreaming hurt.”

Toge didn’t answer immediately, and when Yuuta opened his eyes again, Toge was reaching towards a small travel bag. He retrieved a folded towel from a small stack of them, carefully dampened it with water before he wrung it, then draped it against Yuuta’s temple making sure to be as gentle as possible. Not because Yuuta was fragile but because Toge had learned to treat with care the hard way. Not by receiving it, but by deciding it was what mattered.

“I must’ve looked awful.” Yuuta whispered.

You were sick. That’s not awful. That’s human. After a pause, he added to that. You looked like someone who needed someone.

Yuuta’s breath stuttered. He turned his face slightly into the towel, eyes stinging not with fever this time, but something deeper. Something raw.

“Why didn’t you leave anyway?” He asked, almost childlike. “You could’ve gone back to Jujutsu High. You didn’t have to wait.”

Toge didn’t sign right away. Instead, he took the towel and set it down, leaned forward, and smoothed Yuuta’s damp hair back from his forehead tucking one stray strand behind his ear. His fingers lingered there, warm and still. I did have to.

Yuuta blinked at him, confused.

Because if it were me, you wouldn’t have left either. Even if there was nothing you could do to help. Even when you can’t do anything but sit.

Yuuta swallowed. His throat burned, but he didn’t reach for the water. He just looked at Toge, eyes wide, like something was breaking open inside him. Not pain, just a kind of quiet devastation, like no one had ever said it to him that plainly before.

And maybe no one had.

“I’ve never been taken care of like this.” He said softly. “Not since Rika. And even then, I kept hiding the worst of it. I didn’t want to be anyone's burden.”

Toge’s expression didn’t shift. It didn’t need to. The way his thumb moved along Yuuta’s jaw said everything. Letting someone see you isn’t a burden.

Yuuta let out a breath shaky, but steadying. His gaze flicked to the corner where a thermos and sealed soup packet waited, then back to Toge. “Did you even sleep?”

Toge shrugged one shoulder. A little.

Yuuta groaned faintly, trying to push himself up.

Toge’s hands stopped him at once, palms pressing gently to his shoulder and chest. He drew back when he was sure Yuuta would not challenge him by trying again. Stay. Rest. I’ll warm the food.

“I can..”

Toge raised a brow, mouth shifting to a frown. You can fall over, sure.

Yuuta sighed, partially smiling as he let himself sink back down. “Alright, if you insist.”

Toge rose in one smooth motion, stretching just enough for a few pops to escape from his shoulders, then moved to the old electric burner tucked into the corner of the room. Yuuta listened as the soup packet crinkled and after a few seconds, the metallic hiss of water heating filled the following silence.

Yuuta turned his face toward the window. Watched the soft, silver-gray daylight shift through the slats. Dust caught in a ray like snow. He closed his eyes again, let the smells of miso and steam wash over him.

“I didn’t realize..” He said suddenly, voice quiet. “How much it would mean to me. You staying here, taking care of me.”

Toge glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his eyes crinkling. You deserve someone who does. Every time, Yuuta.

Yuuta opened his eyes again. His voice, hoarse as it was, broke slightly. “Who in their right mind forced you to learn all this by yourself?”

Toge didn’t look away. He returned to Yuuta’s side, kneeling again with a folded towel in his lap. No one stayed when I was young, I was too dangerous. So I learned what I wanted, and I gave it to others.

Yuuta looked at him, really looked at him. At the way he knelt, small towel gripped between careful fingers. At the lines of his body tight with fatigue, but softened with care. Toge didn’t seem tired of giving. If anything, he looked more himself here than on any battlefield. At peace in the act of love.

“You’re incredible.” Yuuta whispered. “You know that, right?”

Toge smiled. It wasn’t shy, it was soft, and a little crooked, like he’d heard that before but didn’t always know what to do with it.

He signed again, slowly. You’re alive, you’re here. That’s all I need.

Yuuta, who had spent so many years giving everything away, realized in that moment that letting someone love him back fully, without caveats was the hardest and gentlest thing he’d ever done.

But it wasn't impossible.

Not with Toge.