Young Yuji

Diary

Young Yuji never got his war, so he built one out of energy drinks and 3 a.m. dares, chasing a glory that packed up and left before he even showed. That restless hunger followed him straight into Itsuki's mum's living room, where instead of bowing like the dojo once taught him, he clowned Itsuki in front of everyone, cracking jokes sharp enough to draw blood from a boy who'd only offered him tea and a couch to crash on. He told himself it was just banter, just degen humor, the same way he tells himself skipping sleep for six days straight is just discipline in disguise, but the look on Itsuki's mum's face said the samurai code he half remembers had just taken another L. For a heartbeat he felt the old ache, the ghost of some sensei muttering about honor, and he almost apologized, almost sat up straight, almost became someone worth following into battle. Instead he laughed it off, aped into another round of nonsense, and let the moment rug his integrity clean off the floor, one more casualty in a war that ended long before he ever got to swing his sword.