It was time for the true slugger. Itadori stood in the batter’s box, adopted a stance, and used a light grip with perfect form …or perhaps not. He was too loose. Being too tight wouldn’t yield better results, but the way he was standing, it looked like a ball with hardly any force behind it would travel right through the bat.
“What the hell is that?” Fushiguro asked.
Itadori flashed an indomitable smile. “You’re not the only ones who’ve grown. I picked up a little something during the Goodwill Event.”
“Oh, when Todo was brainwashing you?” Fushiguro asked.
“Don’t call it that,” Itadori said. “You might not be wrong, but it scares me.”
Loosely holding the bat, Itadori swung, grinned confidently and christened the technique. “I call it... Swingin’ Black Flash!”
Fushiguro had heard a brief account of what happened in the fight against the special grade cursed spirits, but he hadn’t yet heard about Itadori consecutively generating Black Flash. Maybe Nanami will get angry at him, he thought.
“Yes! I’m number one!” Itadori shouted.
“How can you hit the ball when you have such awful form?” Kugisaki demanded.
Ultimately, Itadori was the champ, with twelve hits for fifteen at bats. Form and theory didn’t really matter. After all, this was the guy who had been able to throw a shot put over thirty meters.
“All right, Kugisaki! It’s punishment time!”
“Tch! I gotta do it, right? So I will! After all, I’m the one who suggested it!”
“Who’re you gonna impersonate?”
“Watch and guess. Prepare for some mind-blowing method acting!”
“Even the punishment is like a game?”
Kugisaki flexed her shoulders and elbows, warming up. Fushiguro didn’t know why warmed-up muscles were necessary for an impression, and he decided not to point out that maybe she should have tried the stretching before batting.
Kugisaki cleared her throat, struck a pose and said, “Are you nuts, Itadori?!”
“When would Ken Kobayashi ever talk to me?” Itadori asked.
“Hunh? What’ve you got against Ken Koba?”
“That’s not my point! Anyway, why do you look so much like him?!”
Fushiguro was uncomfortable with Itadori and Kugisaki’s raucous behavior. He couldn’t understand why a girl would choose to do that particular impression or how Itadori had been able to guess so quickly.
“Seems I gotta show you how it’s done,” Itadori said.
“You’re gonna do an impression too?” Kugisaki asked.
Fushiguro frowned as Itadori began stretching. This was beginning to look like an impression competition. Wasn’t doing an impression supposed to be punishment for losing the batting competition? And when did it become necessary to stretch your muscles before doing an impression? Fushiguro’s confusion spiraled.
Itadori made a show of taking a deep breath and then did his thing.
“You’re not gonna make it.”
“Enough with the movie references!” Kugisaki said.
“But you got it, right?” Itadori asked.
“If you’re gonna do Schwarzenegger, why do that scene?!”
Glancing ambivalently at his two friends as they chattered away, Fushiguro strolled toward the vending machines. If they kept this up, it wouldn’t be long before they tried to get him to do an impression.
What next? Well, Itadori thrashed Kugisaki at table tennis, then she lost three straight games of squash and got a little frustrated. They tried billiards, but no one really knew the rules. After exchanging what little they knew, they wrote it off as an incomprehensible game.
It was getting dark outside and they decided to take a break in the food court. Fushiguro was sipping iced coffee when Kugisaki came back with a boba drink. Fushiguro wondered how long those boba drinks would be trendy.
“Where’s Itadori?” he asked.
“He’s waiting for octopus dumplings,” Kugisaki answered. She sat down diagonally across from Fushiguro. “Why the bored look?”
“No reason.”
“Okay, whatever.”
Kugisaki fiddled with her smartphone and Fushiguro looked down at the table. The sports center was as noisy as ever, but Fushiguro could feel the silence sitting heavy in the space between them. It wasn’t like they were on bad terms or uncomfortable around each other. They had been the only two first-years at the Tokyo school for the past two months, so they had bonded to the point where silence was no burden.
But Itadori was the one who kept things lively. Fushiguro looked at Itadori, who was at the food counter with his back turned. Now that Fushiguro thought about it, Itadori was the one who had said he was “snacky.” Fushiguro raised his face as if suddenly realizing something.
“Kugisaki,” he said.
“Yeah?” she replied.
“Were you trying to get Itadori to tell us what he wanted to do all day?”
“Well, I said no to the shark movie.”
Without denying anything, Kugisaki rested her chin in her hand and sighed faintly. “It’s obvious that the idiot changed while he was away. But an idiot might as well live it up idiotically.”
Kugisaki had sensed the same thing as Fushiguro. Rather than puzzle over the change in Itadori, however, she had chosen to be considerate. She gave the impression of having an aggressive personality, but in truth she was sensitive to how others felt.
“It’s obvious you were at a total loss,” Kugisaki said.
“Did I look that way?” Fushiguro frowned uncomfortably.
Kugisaki crooked her mouth. “He up and dies, and then suddenly comes back. So yeah, it irritated me, and I wanted to bite his head off. But I knew that stewing over it wouldn’t do any good. Just like you have to accept it when somebody dies, you have to accept it when you find out somebody’s alive.” She jerked her chin to indicate Itadori. “He’s alive and he’s here. What else is there to say?”
“Well...” Fushiguro laughed then, because he knew she was right.
Itadori might be alive now, but the past in which Fushiguro had been weakened by the loss of Itadori wouldn’t disappear. At the moment, however, that frustrating feeling was secondary to the reality of this situation, the reality that Itadori was here. There was no reason not to be happy about that fact.
“Thanks for waitin’! What were you talkin’ about?” Itadori brought the smell of octopus dumpling sauce back with him.
Fushiguro and Kugisaki both looked at Itadori, who tilted his head as if puzzled.
“Is there something on my face?” he asked.
“I was just thinking you look as stupid as ever,” Kugisaki said.
“Why so mean?” Itadori said.
“I’ll take some of those dumplings,” Kugisaki declared.
“Me too,” Fushiguro said.
Fushiguro and Kugisaki banged their change on the table—clink, clink—and took up toothpicks. They had just exercised, and their hunger was suddenly unstoppable.
“Wait, stop!” Itadori raised his voice in alarm.
Kugisaki froze in mid-search for a dumpling with extra sauce, but Fushiguro had already placed one in his mouth.
“What’s the problem?” Kugisaki asked. “You got enough toothpicks for everyone, so you knew you had to share, right?”
“These are Russian Roulette octopus dumplings,” Itadori warned.
“Meaning one of them has a ton of spicy mustard inside?” Kugisaki said.
“Yup.” Itadori nodded.
Kugisaki and Itadori looked at Fushiguro. He wasn’t saying anything because he was pouring iced coffee down his throat at an incredible rate. Apparently, the game of Russian Roulette octopus dumplings was already over.
“Thanks, Fushiguro. Now we can eat in peace,” Itadori said.
“Are you picking a fight?” Fushiguro asked.
“Sorry, Fushiguro. This was the only kind they had,” Itadori said.
Fushiguro wanted to complain about Itadori buying these, of all things, but he had gobbled one down before anyone could stop him, so he had no right to grumble. Gazing at him with amusement, Kugisaki breezily popped another dumpling in her mouth.
“So now whaddaya wanna do? It’s a little early for supper. Besides, we’re already having octopus dumplings.”
“Hmm … Good question,” Itadori said.
As Fushiguro looked at Kugisaki, he swallowed some more iced coffee. He knew she wanted to do something that Itadori would enjoy, so he didn’t make any suggestions.
Itadori thought as he devoured a dumpling. He smacked his lips at the taste of the sauce, cleared his throat, and answered. “We should do something that you guys want to do.”
Kugisaki and Fushiguro glanced at each other, noting how Itadori had said that so casually. He looked clueless and unconcerned with details, but he wasn’t totally insensitive.
Kugisaki gave a helpless shrug and laughed. “Shall we go to karaoke now?”
“Yeah! If we go now, it’ll be suppertime, so maybe I can grab a bite to eat there,” Itadori said.
“I can’t believe you want to have karaoke food for dinner,” Kugisaki said.
“It isn’t very good, but it has a particular appeal,” Itadori explained. “Fushiguro, let’s sing a song by Yuzu! Yu-u-u-zu!”
“Why do we have to do a duet?!” Fushiguro said.
Their corner of the food court grew boisterous. They were no longer guarded in their conversation, and there was no longer any need for formalities. It was an easygoing, unremarkable day. Tomorrow, however, everything might be different. Tomorrow, one of them might be gone. Tomorrow, they might not be able to smile like this.
But for this moment, at least, they could sit there and enjoy their ridiculous banter. In one corner of this cursed world, the kids could enjoy their fleeting youth. They couldn’t be certain that they would receive a proper send-off when their deaths came, but as they walked their treacherous path, it was nice to take the occasional detour.