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On paper, eight years old Itadori Yuuji is an orphan.
His last living relative, his grandfather, had passed away a year ago. He has no siblings and both his parents are unaccounted for – presumed either dead or missing – so he should be, by all logic, in foster care.
Nishikawa Yuka is the third social service worker who has come by to see the orphan Itadori Yuuji. The first two had never returned to the office to provide their reports and Itadori Yuuji’s records continue to indicate that he is not in care and is - in the worst case scenario - living on the streets.
As a mother, Yuka’s heart aches for the child that is Itadori Yuuji. She can only imagine the loneliness he must feel, all alone in the world with no living relatives. That is why she is determined to see Itadori Yuuji for herself, and to help him find a foster family that will care for him the way all children deserved to be cared for.
Yet when she arrives in Sendai looking for Itadori Yuuji, this is the answer she receives:
“Oh Yuuji-chan?” goes Wada Akane – a mother of three and Itadori’s next door neighbor – shaking her head and smiling. “Of course he’s not alone. He has his family with him.”
“His…family?” Yuka repeats, puzzled.
Akane nods, still smiling as she balances her youngest against her hip. “Yes, his family. I don’t see them around too often because of my children but they seem like a very lively bunch – and so sweet towards Yuuji-chan! It’s quite an adorable sight.”
Yuka flips through her notes, her confusion growing as her notes will list Itadori Wasuke and Itadori Yuuji as the only members of the Itadori household.
“Are you sure it’s not just another one of your neighbors watching over Yuuji during the day?” she asks Akane.
“Oh yes, I’m quite sure!” Akane insists. “I grew up in this town, you know. I know all the other families who live on our street. We all take turns hosting barbeques during the summer, after all!”
“Do these…family members of Itadori Yuuji ever come to these barbeques?”
“No, they don’t,” Akane says, her smile suddenly tight. “They like to keep to themselves, that family.”
It doesn’t matter who else Yuka asks in the neighborhood, the answers will always be along the same vein.
“Of course he’s not alone!” they’ll say with a little laugh, like it’s a silly, strange question to be asking in the first place.
“He has his family,” they’ll insist but whenever Yuka presses for details – perhaps a description, possibly a picture, even just a name – everyone becomes strangely tight-lipped and will not meet her eyes.
“He has his family,” they’ll repeat, their smiles suddenly tight like Akane’s, and not reaching their eyes.
It is a strange reaction, one that almost makes Yuka think that they’re afraid. Of what, she does not understand.
During this time – as she’s interviewing Itadori’s neighbors – Yuka begins to see things out of the corner of her eyes.
At first, it’ll be a little flicker at the very edge of her vision, quicksilver and gone the moment she blinks. She brushes it off as a bug flying by, until the flickers are no longer just flickers in the corner. She begins to see things move in her periphery, vague outlines solidifying until it seems as though there is another person behind her.
Watching her.
Yet no matter how quickly she turns her head, no matter how quick she is to catch a glimpse of the figure and move accordingly, there is never anyone there when she looks. She eventually comes to dismiss it as a strange hallucination because all she ever sees when she turns around is her own shadow.
As Yuka begin to make plans to visit the Itadori house, a teenage boy approaches her.
He has sharp, spiky black hair and blue eyes. His face is elegant and sharp and his skin is pale; Yuka can tell that he’ll grow to be a handsome man, even with the stoic, stony expression he wears. Yet she cannot help but feel there is something strange about the boy, without understanding why.
It will not be until the boy walks up to her that Yuka will notice how oddly formless the boy’s body is. While his face is sharply defined, everything from the neck below will strike her as vaguely shaped – like an artist who had poured all their imagination into the boy’s face and only remembered to give the boy a body at the last minute, leaving behind a slapdash job of black thrown across the canvas to vaguely resemble a human shape.
Yuka eventually comes to the conclusion that it’s due to the bagginess of the boy’s clothes. It’s a fashion choice, she’ll think.
“Can I help you?” she politely asks the boy.
“You should stop investigating the Itadori household,” the boy says. “Yuuji’s happy where he is, so don’t get involved.”
Yuka’s briefly flabbergasted, thrown off by the boy’s bluntness as well as the unmoving stoniness of the boy’s expression. Were all teenagers this expression?
“I-I cannot do that,” she finally says. “It’s my job to ensure that Itadori Yuuji-kun is living in an environment suitable for his growth. Until I can guarantee that, I cannot leave.”
The boy’s expression darkens, turning into a glower that is impressively intimidating coming from a teenage boy. Yuka finds herself briefly cowed, and even begins to think it strange how the shadows around the boy’s feet seem to be growing in length, that they seem to be darkening despite it being so bright outside still.
“He has his family,” the boy near-hisses at her. “They’re all he needs.”
“His grandfather has passed away, he has no more family.” Yuka feels like a broken record, repeating this same sentence since arriving here with everyone in the neighborhood refusing to hear her.
“Yes he does,” the boy insists, staunchly unmoving. “His family is growing every day.”
Something odd happens then. The boy’s expression begins to lighten, the stoniness of his glare easing as his eyes grow feverishly bright, his lips curling up into a small, noticeable smile. Yuka swears that the shadows at the boy’s feet begin moving then – writhing at the boy’s feet like a living, breathing creature.
“Someday,” the boy breathes, wearing the same fevered bright look, smiling without a care in the world. “Someday, I’ll be part of it too.”
That can’t be right, she thinks, a vague but growing sense of wrongness permeating her brain now. It is an ancient, primordial fear that is more instincts than thoughts – a wordless, nameless thing that can only be felt.
In the distant, a dog will begin to bark. In the serene quietness that had settled over the neighborhood in the late afternoon, the barks come as a cacophony of noise.
Yuka spins around, startled. She looks left, right, up past the border of the park but there are no dogs in sight.
When she turns around again, the boy has vanished.
Eventually, she goes and visits Itadori's house.
She rings the doorbell, not sure if anyone will answer but quicker than she can blink, the door opens to reveal a tall, white-haired man in dark shades behind it.
Like the boy, Yuka cannot help but think of how handsome the man looks, yet she cannot help but be struck by the same feeling of wrongness about the man as well. At first glance, Yuka cannot place why she feels this way.
It’s not until after Yuka’s introduced herself and the man’s invited her in, that Yuka will begin to place the feeling.
The man is too tall. He seems to tower over her, his head all but touching the ceiling and his limbs seem a bit too long, like they’ve been stretched a bit too far to be normal. Yet just like before, Yuka forces herself to dismiss it because surely there was nothing strange about the man. The man was tall, yes, but he was human and humans came in all shapes and sizes. The man – “Satoru,” he will have said as introduced at the front door – was simply on the taller end of the spectrum. There was nothing wrong with that.
Satoru leads her to the living room, where she finally catches her first glimpse of the living version of Itadori Yuuji.
The photos don’t do him justice, she can’t help but think, unable to resist smiling at the adorable image the boy paints as he sits on the floor drawing while humming the theme song of a popular Saturday morning anime Yuka has seen her boys watch religiously.
Sitting next to him is a teenage boy with coal black hair and black-blue eyes, his face pale and dark bags heavy beneath his eyes. Again, the same sense of handsome yet at the same time, wrongness strikes Yuka as she looks at him. It is in the way the boy seems too thin beneath his clothes, his limbs just a little long – stretched, like Satoru’s – and the darkness of the bags beneath his eyes too heavy to be caused by just a bad bout of insomnia.
Again, she dismisses it and takes a seat in the living room, Satoru on the couch adjacent to her.
“Yuuta,” Satoru calls out, and the boy – Yuuta – stands up.
When Yuuta stands, Yuka sees that he is as tall like Satoru so perhaps it is a genetic thing - perhaps they really are family, just as all the neighbors have insisted.
Itadori will look up then too, finally catching sight of Yuka and grins, a miniature little sunbeam gently punting Yuka in the face.
“Hi!” he loudly greets her, walking right up to the couch. “I’m Itadori Yuuji and I’m eight years old! What’s your name?”
Yuka cannot help but smile back.
“It’s very nice to meet you Itadori-kun,” Yuka says, and genuinely means it because Itadori is such a bright child that she cannot help but care for him immensely. It furthers her resolve, reminding her why she’s here: to ensure that this orphaned child is in the right environment to grow up happy and healthy, that he is getting the care he needs.
At first glance, it seems that he is. The house is orderly and clean, except for the occasional clutter that comes from having a young child around the house. Itadori himself looks healthy and happy, running to Yuuta to be picked up which Yuuta easily does, returning Itadori’s smile with his own haggard yet equally bright one.
Yuuta and Satoru seem to also genuinely care for Itadori by the way they look at Itadori alone yet they look nothing like the small, pink-haired chubby child. There are no records whatsoever of them in the Itadori family registry so just who were they?
That was what Yuka had come to find out today.
She asks Satoru if he can ask him a few questions, to which Satoru agrees.
“Yuuji, you should go play outside,” Satoru tells the child. “Yuuta and I need to talk about some grown up things. It’ll be realllly boring.”
That surprises Yuka – Yuuta would be joining their conversation as well? At first glance, he doesn’t appear to be older than seventeen but she concedes there is an air of maturity about him. And from what she’s seen, he appears rather adept at handling Yuuji as well.
“You can play with Choso-san outside,” Yuuta tells Yuuji, guiding the child towards the sliding doors leading out to the back.
“Is Choso a neighbor?” Yuka asks, despite knowing that they can’t possibly be, as she’s met all of the families living in the area and none of them have a Choso in their family.
Satoru offers Yuka a thin smile, his gaze piercing despite the shades completely hiding his eyes. “Choso is Choso,” he answers, and does not elaborate.
Yuka watches as Yuuta opens the back door, another man suddenly walking into view. He appears so abruptly that Yuka almost does a double take. How had she not heard him approach?
Unlike Satoru, Yuuta and the boy from before, Choso has a more rugged look to him - a square jaw and narrower eyes. His hair is dark like Yuuta’s, spiky like the teenage boy’s but there is a dark, thick line of a tattoo running across the bridge of his nose. His shoulders are broad, his arms coiled with lean muscle. He is intimidating to look at, his face set in a stoniness reminiscent of the teenage boy in the park.
Yet that stoniness melts immediately upon seeing Yuuji, transforming into something soft and warm. There is not quite a smile on Choso’s face but something very close, something heavy with adoration and affection.
Itadori is so loved, Yuka cannot help but think.
Still, who were these people? There is nothing in the registry about them, and Satoru has refused to elaborate on his relation no matter what kind of questions she’s asked.
“We’re – at least, Yuuta and I – are Yuuji’s family,” is all Satoru will say, his smile never wavering. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Could you please elaborate on what exactly your relation is to Itadori-kun?” she asks again.
From the corner of her eyes, Yuka takes notice of Yuuta who remains standing by the end of the couch, not sitting down to join them but perching close to where Satoru sits, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on Yuka.
Staring at her. Dissecting her.
Coldness crawls up Yuka’s spine. The feeling of wrongness returns tenfold. Outside, she can hear Itadori’s bright laughter as Choso chases him around in a game of tag.
“I don’t think we need to,” Satoru will say. “Isn’t it enough that we’re his family? That we’re making sure he’s kept happy and fed and safe?”
Yuka takes in a deep, fortifying breath. “Satoru-san, while it is obvious that you have Itadori-kun’s best interests at heart, society is not as simple as saying you’ll take care of a growing child and that’s that. There are procedures and processes in place for addressing orphaned children, and I am only trying to fulfill my responsibility as a member of the government in ensuring that all displaced children with no family find a place to belong.”
Satoru clicks his tongue then, annoyance leaking into his voice. “You’re not listening to me, are you? I already told you – we’re Yuuji’s family. He belongs with us. He’s safe with us. Yuuta and I can keep him safe because we’re strong.”
Yuka has a feeling they're not talking along the same lines anymore. “Satoru-san, how strong you are does not dictate how well you will be able to raise a child. And I am afraid if you refuse to cooperate with me by not giving me a straight answer, then I will have no choice but to take Itadori-kun away from here until both you and Yuuta-san have completed the appropriate paperwork as there are no records whatsoever of you two adopting Itadori-kun. Without any official records, you might as well have kidnapped him!”
Satoru sighs, deep and long, his shoulders sagging in what looks like exhaustion. As though he’s heard this argument a hundred times over already.
“You humans and your paperwork and processes,” he complains. “You really do make things too complicated.”
“Wha –“ Yuka begins to say.
That’s when Satoru removes his shades.
A thought will flicker through the Yuka’s mind then, some semblance of coherency that quickly shatters when she notices that Satoru has more than one pair of eyes on his face.
Satoru stares at Yuka with six eyes, all of them bright, burning blue like a star being born, beautiful yet terrifying in it’s destructive power and all of the chaos that it leaves in it’s wake.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” is the last thing Yuka hears before her eyes roll up to the back of her heads and she falls unconscious.
Yuuta sighs, looking indifferently down at the knocked out human. “That’s the third one this month Satoru-san. They’re getting persistent.”
Satoru waves it off, letting his shades dangle between his fingers. “It’s fine, it’s fine. At least Megumi didn’t jump the gun this time and suck them into his shadows like he did with the first one.”
Yuuta eyes the unconscious human’s leg with black, bottomless eyes, a sharp glint of white emerging as his lips pull back from his mouth. “Shall I eat this one too?”
Satoru shoots him a quick glance. “It’s because you ate the second one that this one came by.”
Yuuta wilts, the glint of white immediately disappearing behind his closed lips. “So it’s my fault?”
“Oh don’t look so upset,” Satoru happily titters, finally standing up to his full height. At this point, he is taller than the roof of the house itself so he has to twist his neck to rest perpendicular against the ceiling. He reaches out with one long, long limb to grab the human by her neck. “You’re a newly born monster – barely a couple decades old! – and humans like to be needlessly difficult so mistakes are bound to happen. That’s why I’m here! To make sure the humans don’t ever take our Yuuji away.”
“Yes.” Yuuta’s shoulders begin to relax and he too, begins to ease back into his original height. He is not nearly as tall as Satoru but the thinness of his body and the length of which his limbs stretch to, are similar. “Yes, you’re right Satoru-san. I’ll let you handle the human then.”
Satoru grins, all six of his eyes glowing bright even in the afternoon sun. Outside, Yuuji’s laughter continues to echo like the most beautiful chime.
“Of course, anything for Yuuji,” he purrs, his voice growing deeper, distorted as the mouth upon his face vanishes and his body grows thinner, his limbs spindly like black, burnt twigs.
“And what about the others?” Yuuta asks, quietly following after Satoru as he continues to drag the human to the house’s entrance. “Megumi and Choso - will we accept them into our house?”
“Not yet,” Satoru says, his body still contorting, still growing thinner and longer until he stands in a shape too frightening and too inhuman to be looked upon. Yet Yuuta does not so much as blink as Satoru opens the front door then, the human still firmly within his grasp.
“Perhaps soon, but not yet. Right now, it’s just us Yuuta. We have to be the ones to protect Yuuji. We’re the only ones who can keep him safe right now. Because we love him the most.”
“We do,” Yuuta readily agrees, smiling so wide it reaches his darkened eyes. It is a happy smile (but it stretches too wide, the white, white teeth that are exposed in this smile far too sharp).
Satoru’s eyes crinkle in agreement. “I’ll be back soon,” he says, and steps outside.
It’s an hour before dinnertime so Akane’s on the back porch, flipping through one of her favorite cooking magazines for ideas on what to make for dinner tonight. Her children are all napping around her, their quiet breathing lulling her into a sense of quiet peace.
She’s just bookmarked the page with a recipe for shrimp fried rice (they had some leftover shrimp in the fridge and at least one bag of carrots left), when she feels something walk across the backyard.
Akane does not look up. She continues to flip through her magazine, eyes coming to zero in on a hamburg steak recipe.
With a twist! the magazine brags so she marks the page.
In front of her, a looming shadow covers the whole of her backyard, drowning everything in a darkness that makes it impossible for her to read her magazine. Yet Akane does not look up. Does not dare to even move her hand an inch above the magazine she’s holding.
On the very edge of her vision, just past the border of her magazine, Akane catches sight of a pair of human legs being dragged across the grass. Behind her, her children remain sleeping, not even stirring at the noise.
The darkness passes.
Above her, the wind chime they’ve hung on their porch begins to sing as a warm summer breeze comes through, ruffling her children’s hairs and the pages of her magazine.
Akane hums, turning another page to find a recipe for pasta.
Something moves in her periphery again and this time, she looks up.
It’s Satoru-kun from next door.
He’s wearing dark shades again, despite the backyard already being fairly dark, shaded from the afternoon sun that was beginning to set.
He smiles at Akane, a handsome disarming smile that would have made any teenage girl’s heart flutter at how wonderful he looks, all lean limbs and a long, stretching torso packed in form fitting clothes and a sharp face.
“Good afternoon,” he says.
“Good afternoon Satoru-kun,” Akane says in return, not asking why Satoru-kun is in her backyard, nor why he is walking through it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “We’ve had such lovely weather today.”
“Very nice,” he agrees, still smiling. “Yuuji’s really enjoying it.”
“That’s wonderful!” she smiles, her magazine still open to the page on pasta.
“You should get started on dinner now, Akane-san,” Satoru-kun advises her. “Your kids must be hungry.”
Behind her, her eldest son begins to stir. “Mama?” he sleepily calls out, and she turns around, prompted by his call.
“Yes, dear?” she’ll ask, brushing a hand through his hair as he slowly wakes up.
“’s is there someone here?” he asks, words slurring. “Thought I heard someone else…”
Akane looks back.
Satoru-kun has disappeared. In the place where he was standing, her magazine is lying on the ground.
She does not know how it managed to fly over there while she wasn’t looking – she hadn’t even felt it move – but she dutifully goes to pick it up. It sits open on a page for a sweet curry recipe, with an emphasis on extra grated apples in the recipe.
On the porch, her other two children are waking up now that the eldest has begun to stir.
She holds the magazine close to her chest, smiling at her son’s continued quizzical look.
“There was no one dear,” she tells him. “Just the wind.”
She decides they’ll have curry tonight. Sweet, with extra apples.