NEW ICHIRAKU RAMEN) CHAPTER NINE

Junpei Yoshino had thought that saying goodbye to Naruto and Hinata would be the hardest part.

They had saved his mother’s life, altered the course of his own, and given him something he had not realized he had been missing until it was offered without expectation or judgment: the certainty that he could move forward without erasing what he had endured. Leaving them behind had felt like closing the cover on a chapter that had reshaped him at a fundamental level, one that would remain with him no matter how far he traveled.

And yet, as he stepped away from his apartment with his mother still inside, busy with last minute preparations, Junpei knew there was still one farewell he could not avoid.

Yuji Itadori.

He told his mom he would be back later, after taking care of one last thing, and she let him go without hesitation. There was trust in her eyes now, a confidence that had not been there before, born from the knowledge that he was no longer suffering in silence. 

So Junpei walked through the city at an unhurried pace, letting himself take in the passing streets as he followed a route that had long since etched itself into his memory. In the daylight, everything felt different. The buildings seemed less imposing, the sidewalks less suffocating, and the air itself lighter than it had had that first time, when he had walked them weighed down by apathy and isolation. Even so, his chest tightened when the familiar spot came into view.

It was an unremarkable place by any measure, nothing more than a stretch of concrete near the school quiet enough for a private conversation without being overheard, and ordinary enough that no one paid it any mind. And yet, it had somehow become important simply because it was where they had first talked.

Yuji was already there, sitting with his legs spread and his elbows resting on his knees in that effortless way that had once irritated Junpei simply because it seemed so natural to him. He was staring off into the distance, expression thoughtful, until he noticed Junpei approaching. Then his face brightened, open and genuine as ever.

“Hey,” Yuji said, lifting a hand in greeting. “You’re late.”

Junpei stopped a short distance away, huffing out a breath that might almost have been a laugh. “Sorry,” he replied. “There were… things I had to take care of first.”

Yuji tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face, but he did not push for an explanation. That, Junpei realized (not for the first time), was one of the reasons he had been able to talk to him at all.

They sat together for a while without speaking, the silence between them comfortable rather than strained. Eventually, Junpei’s fingers curled together in his lap, the words he had practiced suddenly feeling heavier than he remembered. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and met Yuji’s gaze.

“I’m leaving,” he said, forcing himself to hold eye contact. “Japan, I mean. My mom and I. We’re leaving for good.”

Yuji blinked, clearly caught off guard. “For good?” he repeated. “That’s… sudden.”

“Yeah,” Junpei replied. “We’re heading to the airport later today. It’s better this way. A fresh start, somewhere far away from all of this.”

Yuji studied him carefully, as though trying to read between the lines, and whatever he saw there seemed to sober him. “I see,” he said quietly. “So you came to say goodbye.”

Junpei swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke again. The city filled the space with distant traffic and the sounds of everyday life going on uninterrupted, as though nothing important was happening at all.

Junpei was the one who broke the silence.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice coming out steady despite the knot in his throat. “For talking to me, and for listening to me talk. You were… you were my only friend, Yuji, and that mattered more than I can really explain.”

Yuji’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth parting in surprise, before a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t really do anything special,” he said, scratching at the back of his head. “I just… talked to you.”

“That was enough,” Junpei replied without hesitation, and he meant it.

He took another breath, his expression growing more serious. “There’s something else you should know. About a human-looking cursed spirit I became sort of… friends with.”

At that, Yuji stiffened almost imperceptibly, his attention sharpening at once. “You know that guy?”

“His name is Mahito,” Junpei said, and he told him what he could. He spoke about the way Mahito saw the world, about how human he had seemed despite being anything but, and about the danger he posed beneath his immature demeanor. He neither exaggerated nor downplayed the truth, and thankfully, Yuji listened without interrupting, his expression darkening as the picture became clearer to him.

When Junpei finished, Yuji nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, a flash of anger crossing his eyes before he reined it in with a crooked smile. “I’ll be careful.”

Junpei nodded in return, a small sense of relief settling over him now that the warning had been given. With that done, there was nothing left to delay the inevitable.

“I guess this is it,” he said as he stood and extended his hand. “Take care of yourself, Yuji.”

Yuji stared at the offered handshake for a moment, then ignored it entirely. Before Junpei could react, before he could even process the refusal, Yuji stood and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a firm, unmistakably earnest hug.

Junpei froze, shock rippling through him as his thoughts scrambled to catch up, his hands hovering awkwardly at Yuji’s back.

“Hey,” Yuji said, his voice muffled against Junpei’s shoulder. “You don’t get to just disappear, okay. You have to keep in touch, no matter where you end up.”

Something warm bloomed in Junpei’s chest, an emotion he did not try to suppress this time. And slowly, he finally returned the embrace.

“I will,” he said, equally as quiet. “I promise.”

Yuji pulled back at last, grinning at him in that familiar, unguarded way. “Good.”

Junpei took a step back, then another, committing Yuji’s face and mannerisms to memory. When he finally turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder one last time and raised a hand.

“Goodbye, Yuji,” he called out, louder than he had intended, but without feeling any trace of embarrassment.

Yuji waved back just as enthusiastically. “Take care, Junpei.”

Junpei walked on without looking back again, carrying the sound of that farewell with him as he headed toward the future waiting beyond the city.