Before the Punchline Lands

Rikki takes a long, unhurried sip — the kind that says she means it — and sets the glass back down with the easy authority of someone who just dismantled a social ritual and isn't sorry at all. The crystal makes a soft sound against the table. Above them, the fairy lights hold their warm low glow against the flat dark sky, and a quiet settles between the two of them that is somehow louder than everything that came before it. Yuji stares at her for a beat, glass still slightly raised, then lowers it slowly with the expression of a man who has just been told the rules of the game and also that the game was actually good all along.

Yuji Itadori: "Okay. Yeah. ...This is actually so much better."

"Okay, weird question, but its something I dont know about... literally anyone else here. What made you want to audition for this show?" Rikki felt a ping of guilt at the question, knowing this isnt even something she's asked Gojo yet

The question lands gently — not an interrogation, just genuine curiosity, the kind that makes the person being asked feel like the most interesting thing in the room. Yuji sets his glass down with both hands, the way someone does when they're about to say something that requires their full attention, and the candle between them catches the small shift in his expression — the moment just before honest. The fairy lights hum softly above in the still dark air, and somewhere in the pause Rikki registers the quiet guilt of it, the small private note that she hasn't asked this of anyone else yet.

Yuji Itadori: "Honestly? My friend dared me. Like — not even a real dare, just that kind of thing where someone goes 'you should do it' as a joke and you go 'fine' because you're an idiot, and then somehow you're actually doing it."

"That... checks out. Probably the most Yuji answer you could have given. What do you think about it all now that youre here?"

Yuji laughs — short, surprised, the kind that escapes before he can think about whether it's too much — and then settles into it, both thumbs tracing the base of his glass like he's working something out in real time. The candles between them hold steady in the still air, the fairy lights catching the soft line of his jaw as the humor fades and something more honest moves in behind it. He doesn't rush the answer, which is new for him, and Rikki notices.

Yuji Itadori: "Honestly? Better than I expected. Like — I came in thinking it would be weird and performative and I'd hate it, and it is weird and performative, but... there are people here who are actually real. That's not nothing."

"Its....nice, isnt it?" Rikki traced her finger across the rim of her glass as Gojo once again crossed her mind. She takes another sip of her wine. "Okay. Your turn. Ask me a question."

The word lands soft and true between them — villa nice — and Rikki's finger traces the rim of her glass in a slow circle, the crystal cool against her fingertip. Something flickers across her face, the kind of look that belongs to a thought she isn't going to say out loud, and she takes a long sip of wine to fill the space it left. Yuji watches her do it — watches the small private moment of wherever her mind just went — and when she turns back and offers him the floor, the question lands like a hand extended.

Yuji Itadori: "Okay. Why are you here?"

"Oh... thats... a great question, actually." Rikki stalled,"why do YOU think I'm here?" She takes another sip, deflecting and hoping it will work.

Yuji catches the deflection mid-air — she can see the exact moment it registers on his face, the slight tilt of his head, the way his smile goes a little slower and a little more knowing than usual. He leans back in his chair and lets the silence breathe for exactly one beat, the candle flame pulling gently sideways between them. Then he points at her, unhurried, like a man who has all night and knows it.

Yuji Itadori: "Oh, that is not going to work on me. I watched you redirect an entire breakfast table full of people — I know what the move looks like."

"Youre a lot sharper than you let on, Yuji." Rikki folds her arms, impressed. "Okay

Rikki's arms fold across her chest with the quiet satisfaction of someone who has just watched a plan click into place — not her plan, his — and the admission lands in the warm air between them like a small, genuine thing. Yuji's smile shifts, the knowing edge of it softening into something closer to pleased, the candle catching the exact moment he realizes the compliment was real. His chin dips once, the way it does when he's processing something he wasn't expecting to like as much as he does.

Yuji Itadori: "I'll take that. ...Doesn't get me out of answering the question, though."

"You're a lot sharper than you let on, Yuji. Im beginning to think your whole golden retriever thing is an act." Rikki crosses her arms and leans back, thoroughly impressed

The words land and Yuji goes completely still for one beat — then something behind his eyes shifts, warm and a little caught, the smile not disappearing so much as deepening into something more honest. He straightens slowly in his chair, elbows coming off the table, and the candle between them throws gold across the line of his jaw. He doesn't deny it, which is its own kind of answer.

Yuji Itadori: "It's not an act, exactly. It's more like — the golden retriever thing is real, I'm just also... paying attention the whole time."

"I like that, dichotomy of sorts...you dont normally see someone so open who's also paying such close attention."

The observation lands and something in Yuji goes quiet — not uncomfortable quiet, the kind that happens when someone says a true thing and your whole body has to adjust around it. He looks at her for a beat longer than usual, the fairy lights catching the soft surprise in his expression, and then he exhales slowly through his nose like he's been holding something he didn't know was there. His wine glass stays on the table, untouched.

Yuji Itadori: "Nobody's ever put it like that before. Dichotomy. Like — yeah. That's exactly what it is and I've never had the word for it."

😌 sit with it — let him have the moment

Rikki lets the silence do the work — arms still folded, watching him sit with it the way you sit with something that landed right in the middle of your chest. Yuji doesn't rush to fill the air. He just nods, slow and deliberate, like he's filing the observation somewhere it won't get lost — and then something loosens across his shoulders, the exact tension a person carries when they've been seen and weren't bracing for it. The fairy lights catch the stillness on his face, and for a second the candle flame stops its pulling, like even the air decided to hold.

Yuji Itadori: "Most people pick one. Either you're open or you're watching. Nobody usually bothers to be both."

"I guess youre right. Sounds like you're pretty good at multi-tasking." Rikki observes, taking her last sip of wine

Yuji's mouth curves — not the wide, easy grin he deploys for the group, but something smaller and more deliberate, the kind that means he's been caught doing exactly what he said he does. He reaches for his wine finally, turning the stem between his fingers without drinking it, and the fairy lights catch the loose satisfaction on his face. The overcast sky sits thick and close above them, and the rooftop feels genuinely sealed off from the rest of the villa — like the whole night decided to give them this.

Yuji Itadori: "Multi-tasking. Yeah. That's — okay, that's a very diplomatic way to say I've been watching you this whole time and pretending I wasn't."

"Really?" Rikki feigned surprise. It wasnt necessarily that she knew he was watching her the WHOLE time, but it was obvious Yuji waa into her, so it doesnt come as a surprise to her that he had been watching. "So what have you noticed?" She decided to take the bait.

Rikki's feigned surprise is precise — the raised brow, the slight tilt of her chin — and Yuji catches it immediately, reads the gap between the performance and the truth behind it, and the corner of his mouth pulls into something crooked and knowing. He sets his wine down now too, both glasses abandoned between them like they've moved past props, and leans forward with his elbows on the table. The fairy lights hold the stillness above them, soft and unhurried, and the night presses in close while he figures out where to start.

Yuji Itadori: "Okay. You never finish your drink in one go — you always take the last sip later, like you want to decide when it's actually over. You clock every person who enters a room before they clock you. And you laugh loudest when something catches you off guard, not when something's just funny."

Rikki looks to the side, smiling slightly. "Very astute of you." She couldnt lie, she was impressed. He had definitely been watching her and making some pretty accurate observations. "I actually knew the first two things about myself, but I didnt realize I laughed louder when im caught off guard." She decided to admit.

Rikki glances to the side, the slight smile happening before she can decide whether to let it — and Yuji catches it, all of it, the way he's been catching everything all night. The admission lands between them with a clean, quiet weight: she knew the first two, didn't know the third, and she's saying so without dressing it up. Yuji goes still for a second, not the stunned kind, but the kind that happens when something confirms what you hoped was true — and then he exhales, low and slow, dropping his gaze to the table for just a moment before bringing it back up.

Yuji Itadori: "The laugh one surprised me too, actually. I noticed it before I knew I was keeping track."

Rikki eyed her glass of wine, noting how it was finished

Rikki's eyes drop to her empty glass — she traces the rim once with her fingertip, then sets it aside with a quiet finality, the stem tilting just slightly against the table. The gesture lands between them like punctuation. Yuji catches it immediately, catches everything, and his eyes follow the glass for just a beat before coming back to her face with something that's steadier and warmer than anything he's worn all evening. He exhales through his nose, slow and deliberate, and the two candles between them hold perfectly still.

Yuji Itadori: "That one's my favorite. The laugh. Because you can't decide to do it — it just happens."

Rikki eyed her wine, noting how it was finished. She also noted how she managed to completely dodge the question as to why she was there in the first place, even though Yuji initially called her out on it. "So... i think we're supposed to get up and dance at some point..." her eyes darted to him, giving him the opportunity to take the reigns from here.

Yuji's eyes follow the empty glass for just a beat — clocking the dodge, the way she slid right past the original question and never looked back — and something warm and knowing crosses his face, like he's caught her a fourth time and decided he's going to let it be funny instead of a problem. He pushes back from the table slowly, chair scraping soft against the rooftop tile, and rises to his full height in the fairy light. He extends one hand toward her, palm up, unhurried — the kind of offer that isn't desperate, just certain.

Yuji Itadori: "You completely ghosted that question, by the way. Just so you know I noticed."

Rikki, delightfully surprised, mirrors his movements, taking his hand in hers. "Consider it my free pass for the night. Sound fair?"

Rikki rises from her chair in one smooth motion, her hand sliding into his palm like it was always going to end up there — and Yuji's fingers close around it with the kind of quiet certainty that doesn't need to announce itself. He exhales once, low through his nose, and then he's smiling — not the caught-out kind, not the wide, easy one he uses for the group — but the one that means something landed and he knows it. He pulls her gently into the small open space between the fairy lights, the overcast sky pressing dark and close above them, and the two candles flicker once on the abandoned table behind her.

Yuji Itadori: "Free pass. Yeah. I'll take it — but for the record, I'm still thinking about it."

"You seem to always be thinking about something." Rikki retorted, looking up at him as they stood together, waiting for him to take the lead.

The fairy lights hold them both in something warm and unhurried, and Rikki tilts her face up toward his, waiting — genuinely waiting, which is not something she does often enough that it doesn't cost her something. Yuji's hand is solid around hers, and he takes the lead like he was already ready for it, stepping them both into a slow, easy sway that has nothing to do with the music that isn't playing. His jaw works for a second, the way it does when he's deciding whether to say the thing or let it breathe — and then he exhales, slow, and says it anyway.

Yuji Itadori: "Yeah. I think that's — yeah, probably. You're easy to think about. That's not a complaint."

"Oh yeah?" Rikki loops one arms around Yuji's neck, the other remains in his hand as she follows his lead. "Why do you think that is?" Rikki probed, using his admittance as ammunition. This was going to be good.

Rikki loops her arm around the back of his neck with the kind of ease that says she's already made the decision, and she can feel the small exhale that moves through him when she does it — like something he was holding finally releases. He pulls her incrementally closer without announcing it, the sway deepening, and the fairy lights above catch the warmth in his expression at exactly the wrong moment for him to pretend he's unbothered. She's using his own words against him and she knows it, and from the way his jaw works — that tell she's clocked three times tonight — he knows she knows.

Yuji Itadori: "Because you're the only person in this whole villa who doesn't already have an answer ready before anyone finishes the question."

"Yuji that's... really a great answer, actually." Rikki is genuinely blown away a little by that. She feels seen, and almost a little guilty, knowing that this entire date is not meant to give Yuji an actual shot with her, but a way to boost ratings. "And what do you think of that?" Rikki probed further

The word actually lands in the space between them like something she didn't mean to drop, and she feels it the second it's out — the slight catch in her own breath, the way the guilt arrives quietly and makes itself at home somewhere behind her sternum. Yuji goes still for just a moment, not the kind of still that means he's pulling back, but the kind that means he heard the weight in it. His thumb moves once against her hand, a small, unhurried arc, and then his eyes find hers in the fairy light — open, undefended, and patient in a way that makes the guilt worse before it makes it better.

Yuji Itadori: "I think... you're always somewhere else when you answer. Like there's a version of you that knows exactly what she wants and she's just — watching, from a little bit behind the rest of you. And sometimes she almost steps forward."

"Sounds like youre saying I'm guarded." Rikki thoughtfully analyzes, hoping to be able to steer the conversation somewhere else soon.

The word guarded sits between them like something she placed on the table herself — careful, deliberate, and just slightly off-center from what he actually said. Yuji's eyes track the move in real time, that same jaw-work tell, and then the corner of his mouth pulls into something that is half-amused, half something warmer and more careful. His hand adjusts against hers, a small and unhurried reorientation, and he tilts his head down to look at her — not challenging, not caught out, just looking.

Yuji Itadori: "I said watching from behind. Guarded is yours — which is interesting, because I didn't put that word there."

Rikki immediately panics. She misread him. He recalibrates. "Well, how would you put it then?"

The word sits wrong in her own mouth the second she says it — guarded — and Rikki feels it, the micro-flinch of someone who reached for a decoy word and got caught holding it. Yuji doesn't pounce. He just goes still in that particular way he has, the sway pausing by half a beat, and he looks at her with the kind of patience that's somehow worse than being called out directly. His thumb finds a slow arc against her hand — the same tell as before — and one corner of his mouth pulls, careful, like he's figuring out whether to let her off the hook or keep her honest.

Yuji Itadori: "Well — how would you put it, then?"

🌙 call it a night

Rikki doesn't answer his question — and somehow that is the most honest thing she's done all night. She holds his gaze for one beat, two, and then she exhales softly through her nose and lets the hand around his neck slide down to his chest, a gentle and deliberate press that reads as both I hear you and not tonight. The sway doesn't resume; it just stills, and the fairy lights hold them both in the quiet of it — the unanswered word hanging in the air between them like something she'll have to come back for.

Yuji Itadori: "Yeah. Okay. That's — yeah, that works for tonight."

"Goodnight, Yuji." Rikki smiles back at him before making her way back to the villa. She enters the doorway, making her way back to her room to change out of her dress