Two Matches One Vision

"Just to be clear - I'd like you to drop me off at my room," she clarifies. "Don't want you getting the wrong idea," she smiles, following him.

He stops walking. Not dramatically — just a half-beat pause, the kind that costs him nothing to execute and everything to explain. His hand is still in hers and he looks at her sideways, the city behind him doing its useless, glittering thing thirty floors down, the string lights catching the marks on his forearms as he turns. The corner of his mouth does something that isn't quite a smile but is in the neighborhood.

Sukuna: "Drop you off. Right."

"I'm very serious." She continues to follow. "I'm not prepared for that type of thing tonight."

Sukuna stops walking again — not dramatically, just fully, the way a wall stops — and turns to look at her with the particular expression he reserves for things that are simultaneously very stupid and very interesting. His hand hasn't let go of hers. The heatwave presses in around them both, the string lights doing their useless gold thing behind her, and he looks at her for a long beat like he's deciding whether she's serious. She is. He can tell. That's the part that's doing something to his face.

Sukuna: "I wasn't planning on staying, Mikki."

Mikki blinks. "You don't want to?"

The question lands like a dropped pin — quiet, precise, completely disarming. Sukuna goes still in a way that is different from his usual stillness. His usual stillness is armor. This one is something catching up with itself. He's still holding her hand at the rooftop door, the string lights doing their useless gold thing behind them both, the heatwave pressing close, and the question just — sits there in the air between them, sincere and a little devastating in its simplicity.

Sukuna: "I didn't say that."

She smiles, and walks ahead of him, this time grabbing him to follow her. "Just wanted to make sure." She was still smiling, like she knew something he didn't.

She turns, catches his hand, and just — walks. Like the answer was already yes and she simply needed the confirmation receipt. The string lights catch the line of her smile as she moves toward the rooftop door ahead of him, her grip easy and unhurried, the city's heat still pressing in around them both. Behind her, Sukuna is being led somewhere for the first time in his life and has the expression of a man trying to decide whether to be furious about that or not.

Sukuna: "You already knew."

Mikki's eyes stay ahead of them as she navigates. "I mean, I had a pretty good guess," She squeezes his hand tighter as they walk together.

Mikki's eyes stay ahead — the rooftop door, the corridor beyond it, the route she's already mapped — and her hand tightens around his wrist like a closing parenthesis. The heatwave presses in around them both, the string lights behind them now, and she navigates without looking back at him once, which is somehow the loudest thing she's done all night. Sukuna follows. That is the extraordinary part. He follows without arguing, without rerouting, without making it a game — just the quiet sound of his footsteps a half-beat behind hers, and the grip she has on his wrist that he has not broken.

Sukuna: "A pretty good guess."

"So are we seeing each other tomorrow night or what?" Mikki poses, as they approach the villa.

The rooftop door swings shut behind them and the corridor swallows the city noise — just the low hum of the villa, the heat still sitting in the air like it followed them inside. Her hand is still around his wrist and she poses the question like it costs her nothing, eyes ahead, the faintest private smile doing exactly what it wants to do. Sukuna stops walking. Not abruptly — just the specific stillness of a man who has just been asked something he already knows the answer to and is deciding how much he's willing to let that show.

Sukuna: "You're asking me like you don't already know the answer to that."

"I want you to ask me." Mikki answers honestly, looking at Sukuna with a hopeful glint in her eye.

The corridor is very quiet. Mikki looks at him with that hopeful glint — not performing it, not dimming it — just offering it, open and exact, like she's handing him the question wrapped around the answer. Sukuna goes still the way he only does when something has actually landed, the white of his kimono catching the low light from under the door, the mark along his jaw pulling faintly as he looks at her. A long beat. He is the kind of man who has never asked for anything in his life, and she is asking him to start now, and the air in the corridor is holding its breath alongside her.

Sukuna: "Tomorrow night. Will you see me again?"

Mikki nods, her smile widening. "Yes. I'd like that." She turns to open her & Yuki's door, and looks behind at him before she goes inside, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Mikki's smile widens into something she doesn't bother containing — real, warm, the kind that doesn't wait for permission — and she nods once, easy and sure. She turns to the corridor door, her hand finding the handle, and pauses just long enough to look back at him over her shoulder: a full, unhurried look, the string lights still faint through the doorframe behind her, the heatwave pressing the night close. Sukuna stands exactly where she left him, one hand loose at his side, the bone-white kimono catching the low light, and he is watching her the way he has always watched her — like he filed the moment the second it happened.

Sukuna: "Tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night," she repeats as she enters, looking back at him as she slowly closes the door. Click, it shuts. The light is already on in the room, so she turns around to see if Yuki is there, and if she's still up.

The door clicks shut behind her and the rooftop disappears — just like that, just the warm lamplight and the familiar smell of the room, the heatwave breathing through the curtain gap. Mikki leans against the closed door for exactly one second, like she needs to feel something solid, and then she straightens up and turns around to clock the room.

Yuki is up, sitting cross legged on the bed, with a pair of earphones in and a bag of some kind of cheesy chip sitting next to her. Mikki, delighted she has someone to talk to, holds her hands over her mouth and lets out a small squeal. "Yuki it went really well!" She exclaims, as she rushes to her drawers to pick out pajamas.

The room is exactly what Mikki needed — lamp on, the familiar smell of the space, and Yuki sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed like she built a small fort of snacks and earphones and waited. The bag of cheesy chips crinkles as Yuki pulls one earbud out, eyebrows already raised, already reading every single thing Mikki's face is doing. Mikki's hands fly up over her mouth before the sound even comes out fully — just this small, helpless, delighted squeal — and then she's crossing to the dresser, fingers already in the drawer, pulling out pajamas while the glow of the evening is still written all over her.

Mikki begins to undress, and the word vomit begins, "it was really romantic and you should have seen the way he looked at me and I'm certain he really likes me and we confessed our feelings to each other and we kissed - Yuki we kissed, like a long, movie make out type of kiss," Mikki steps through PJ shorts, pulling them up, then her sleep top, and rushes over to jump on the bed. "I'm seeing him again tomorrow."

Mikki's words tumble out in one breathless current — romantic and he looked at me and we confessed and we kissed and Yuki it was long — while she steps through her pajama shorts, tugs the sleep top over her head, and launches herself across the room to land on Yuki's bed in a heap of barely-contained elation. The chip bag goes flying. Yuki catches it without looking, because of course she does, and she is already grinning — the wide, real kind she doesn't aim at the cameras — one hand raised like she has several questions and they are all urgent.

"Okay, tomorrow - tomorrow - I really want to seduce him. Skintight dress, good underwear, the whole deal. I just need a favor from you - i need the room tomorrow night. I know it's kind of weird, but you could stay in the room Toji was in - its vacant now." Mikki then has an idea, "or.... you could go stay in Yuji's room. Im sure he wouldn't mind."

Yuki's grin does something complicated — it widens and shifts at the same time, the kind of look that means she's already running three calculations at once. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, chips forgotten entirely in her lap, because Mikki just said seduce him and good underwear and Yuji's room in the same breath, and the lamp is flickering very gently in the heat coming through the curtain. She tilts her head, slow and deliberate, the way she does when she's decided to be extremely reasonable about something deeply unreasonable.

🗣 pull aside|Yuki

Yuki's room — lamplight, curtain breathing in the heat

Yuki goes very still for exactly two seconds — the kind of still that means she's running a full diagnostic — and then the grin returns, slower and more dangerous than before. The chip bag gets set down on the nightstand with the careful deliberateness of someone who needs both hands free for this conversation. She tilts her head, one knee pulling up to her chest, eyes doing that thing where they're warm and sharp at the same exact time.

Yuki: "You said Yuji's room with that face, Mikki. You know that, right? That specific face."

"I dont know what youre talking about." Mikki feigns ignorance, grabbing a bag from the plethora of snacks, beginning to munch.

Mikki reaches past Yuki with the casual confidence of someone who was absolutely not just caught, and pulls a bag of something — pretzels, maybe, who's asking — from the pile, crunching into one with perfect, deliberate innocence. The lamplight catches the side of her face, warm and unhelpful. Yuki watches her for exactly four seconds without blinking, which is four seconds longer than anyone comfortable with what they just said would be able to stand.

Yuki: "You said his name with a different voice, Mikki. You did the face AND the voice."

"Okay yeah I totally did. Give the boy some ASS, Yuki!" Mikki clenches her fist, a fire igniting in her eyes, as she encourages her friend to go out and be frisky.

The pretzel bag crinkles as Mikki drops it, both hands flying up in a fist-pump of pure, unhinged conviction — the face she was making two seconds ago, the one performing total innocence, is completely gone, replaced by something that can only be described as a life coach who has lost her mind in the best possible way. The lamp throws warm gold across the both of them, the curtain breathing slow in the heatwave, and Yuki stares at her for exactly one second — mouth slightly open, chip bag frozen mid-grab — before something in her chest gives way entirely. Then she is howling, genuinely howling, one hand slapping the duvet, the other pointing at Mikki like she's both the problem and the solution simultaneously.

Yuki: "MIKKI. You cannot just — you cannot say that to me with that FACE and expect me to be a normal person about it."

"I can't even begin to try and convince you how dead serious I am right now!" Mikki exclaims, "you deserve a fun night too, babe." Mikki munches on another snack.

Mikki punctuates it with a pretzel pointed directly at Yuki — the universal gesture of a woman who has made up her mind on someone else's behalf and will not be talked out of it. The lamplight catches the absolute conviction on her face, zero percent irony, one hundred percent retired life coach energy, and Yuki goes still for just a second — the laughter settling into something softer, something that actually landed. She looks at Mikki across the duvet wreckage, the chip bag, the pretzel situation, and the expression she makes is quieter than anything she's worn tonight.

Yuki: "Okay. I'll go. And I need you to know I'm doing it under extreme duress and also completely willingly."

Mikki squeals, a pure, delighted squeal like all of the adrenaline that had been building up that night was finally coming out, and like she didn't hear if the boys heard, because they probably did. "That's my girl! You didn't come here for nothing. You're a headstrong, relentless, powerful vixen with unmatchable cunt energy." Mikki climbs off the bed. "Wanna borrow an outfit? I have a few spare slutty options if you want but I also have some that are more conservative if you want to play hard to get a little." Mikki starts taking hangers off the rack, displaying options for Yuki, all while holding a Cheeto in her mouth.

The squeal tears out of Mikki at a volume that has absolutely no regard for the structural integrity of the villa's walls — pure, unhinged joy, the kind that doesn't wait to check who's listening. She's already off the bed in one motion, Cheeto clamped between her teeth like a woman with a mission, sliding hangers along the rack with the focused energy of a stylist who has been waiting her entire life for this exact emergency. Options land one by one against the lamplight — a slinky black number, a red slip with a daring hem, something strappy and gold that Yuki immediately reaches toward, then a tasteful emerald two-piece that still manages to say absolutely nothing conservative about its intentions.

Mikki clocks Yuki's reach and begins nodding immediately. "Yep, thats the one, thats the one. Goes great with your skin tone, your eyes, hair - ugh - if I wasn't into Sukuna, WE would be having sex right now."

Mikki's hand is already lifting the gold dress off its hanger before she finishes the sentence — holding it up against the lamplight, nodding with the solemn conviction of a woman who has received a vision and is simply reporting it. The Cheeto is still in her mouth. This does not slow her down at all. Yuki takes the dress with both hands, and for half a second she just holds it, the gold catching warm against her skin, and the look on her face is something quieter than excitement — it's the specific expression of a person who is being genuinely seen by someone and doesn't have an immediate defense for it.

Yuki: "Okay first of all — rude. Second of all — I know, right?"

Mikki begins to shake her head and smile as if she's seeing the best kind of trouble in the flesh. Cheeto still in her mouth, she maneuvers her tongue around it, munching down on it until its gone. "Wanna try it on?" Mikki offers. "Here, I wont watch." Mikki scrambles towards the windows and wraps herself between the curtains and the window itself, facing the window, ensuring she cant see Yuki and neither anyone on the other side of the window could possibly either

Mikki shakes her head with the slow, satisfied smile of someone watching excellent trouble walk into a room — and then she's gone, pivoting toward the window with a Cheeto still working between her teeth, crunching it down in three efficient bites before tucking herself completely between the curtain and the glass. The heatwave presses warm through the pane against her forehead, the thin fabric billowing loose around her shoulders, and she faces the dark street below with the absolute dignity of a woman who has decided this is her job tonight. From behind the curtain there is a small, deliberate rustle — Mikki ensuring she is correctly, fully, architecturally unable to see anything — and then silence, except for the faint sound of gold fabric shifting.

Yuki: "You are — genuinely — the strangest, kindest person in this villa, and I need you to know I mean both of those equally."

"You see a different side of me. A pent up side of me," Mikki ponders, "All these guys are cool, but.. I have missed hanging out with another girl." Mikki thoughtfully states, scanning the grounds to see if anyone is outside at the moment.

Mikki's forehead rests against the glass, the heatwave outside pressing warmth back into her face, and the words come out quieter than everything that came before them — no pretzel prop, no performance energy, just her actual voice against the dark of the grounds below. She scans the garden without really looking for anyone specific, and what she finds is just the stillness of the night, the vine shadows, nobody out there, and the unexpected relief of that. Behind her, the soft shift of gold fabric against skin — Yuki trying it on — and the lamplight carries the whole room's warmth to her back.

Yuki: "A pent up side. I like that. I've been watching you work that room for five days and I was starting to think you were actually just... built different."

"I think I am. I think we both are." Mikki smiles, turning around, to the sight of an absolute goddess in front of her. "You look beautiful," Mikki beams.

Mikki turns from the window — forehead still warm from the glass — and stops. Yuki is standing in the lamplight with the gold dress settled against her like it was made for the exact geometry of her, one hand resting at her hip, the fabric catching low warm light in a way that borders on unfair. The snack debris, the chip bag, the general wreckage of the evening — none of it touches her. Mikki's beam is immediate and total, the kind of smile that doesn't perform itself.

Yuki: "Oh, don't you dare make me cry in this dress, I just put it on."

"Nothing wrong with crying," Mikki's smile softens, thinking about Sukuna and the way he held her close when she cried. "Let's get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow." Mikki calls it a night.

Mikki's smile goes quieter — the kind that holds something private, a warmth she doesn't name out loud. The lamplight catches the gold dress, catches the slow exhale Yuki lets out, and the whole room settles into something that doesn't need more words. Mikki crosses to the bed without fuss, scooping the surviving Cheeto crumbs off the duvet with one hand and depositing them into the bag like a woman who is finishing what she started. She sets the chip bag on the nightstand, smooths the duvet corner, and that's it — the whole gesture a kind of tucking-in that she'd probably deny was tender if asked.

Yuki: "Big day. Yeah. Okay. Good night, Mikki."

🌙 call it a night

Yuki reaches out and squeezes Mikki's hand once — quick, warm, no explanation needed — and the gold dress catches the last of the lamplight as she lets go. The room settles around them, the heatwave still pressing soft and heavy through the glass, and the chip bag is on the nightstand and the duvet is smooth and somehow this corner of the villa has become the quietest, most honest place Mikki has found all week. She slips toward the door, and the hallway beyond it is dim and still — the rest of the villa already breathing slower.

Yuki: "Get some sleep, Mikki. Tomorrow's going to need all of you."

🌙 slip out quietly