Fushiguro Megumi had fallen in love with Itadori Yuuji very quickly. So very quickly in fact, that it might have veered into pathetic if it had been anyone else. But Itadori Yuuji makes it impossible to not fall in love with him. The rest of the students at Jujutsu High realise this almost as quickly as Megumi did.
He gets a front-row seat to the whole ordeal, watching as they flounder in his presence. Caught in the wire, desperate to back up Megumi, but irresistible to Yuuji's unshakeable character. Megumi watches as every single one of his classmates fall in love with his ex-boyfriend, all the while swinging from wanting to slam Yuuji up against a wall to crack his head in, or drop to his knees and blow him. It depends on the time of day. It's particularly mortifying, and he feels all out of sorts in his own body. Even more so than usual.
Most of the time really, he just wishes he'd never met Yuuji in the first place.
It doesn't take long to realise what's happening because even though it hurts to looks at Yuuji, everything in him screaming out in pain under a brown-eyed gaze, he can't stop looking. He thinks it would hurt more to stop. Thinks he'll just have to settle for this constant ache in his life, because the gaping wound of Yuuji's complete absence might straight up kill him. Megumi thinks that killing Yuuji himself might solve the problem, but he understands that this desire is probably only arising from his own mismanaged anger issues.
He tries not to dwell on any of it, because it was his own selfish infatuation that doomed Yuuji to this fate in the first place. He tries not to blame Yuuji for falling into Jujutsu's trap, into Gojo's trap, because ultimately, it was Megumi who led him here. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
He knows he should stop looking. He knows he should stop searching for the boy in every room he walks into. He knows he should stop searching with his eyes and his Cursed Energy and his heart. But while Megumi used to pride himself on his cold apathy, wielding it like a surgeon wields a scalpel, he has to admit he's lost his edge. Yuuji dulled him, softened his sharpness. And look at where that landed the two of them.
The point is that he can't stop fucking looking at Itadori Yuuji. Can't stop thinking about him in class, or dreaming about him at night, or muttering his name under the rush of the shower or hissing at him during training. It's how he notices his classmates find themselves lost in the pitfall, of soft brown eyes and a lopsided smile, that he's left behind.
Yuuta gets it from the start, because of course he does. Or maybe he's just kind enough that he never planned to hold Megumi and Yuuji's relationship against the guy. From the get-go, he invites Yuuji to train with him, sits with him in the canteen, goes over Jujutsu history with him, handing Yuuji the notes he'd taken in his own first year.
"Woah," Yuuji grins widely as he flicks through Yuuta's notebook, smooth fingertips trailing along the looping handwriting. "This is super helpful, Okkotsu-senpai! Thanks!" And then Yuuji is launching into a hug, arms tightening around Yuuta's shoulders while the older boy splutters out an awkward but happy, "you're welcome, Itadori-kun!" Megumi watches the entire thing unfold with a small scowl until Nobara nudges him in the shoulder, and he looks down to see his pen snapped in his palm, ink running down his wrists.
It takes everyone else a little bit longer – with them all decidedly on Megumi's side in this war he never asked to wage. At the start, Yuuji is mostly ignored. Treated with civility when pushed, but mostly the other students act as if he's not there. Megumi doesn't know why they all think that's what he wants, but he doesn't bother to correct them either. He figures it evens itself out in a way. Everyone else ignoring Yuuji while Megumi's entire being is consumed by him. It vindicates his feelings at first, boiling over with spite and betrayal.
But it doesn't take very long for the soldiers to turn their coats, Yuuji taking them down one by one. Panda and Inumaki are hit on the same night.
One evening, when the sky is throbbing with streaks of burning orange, Panda shows up to the canteen to realise he's missed the prepared dinner. There's a few people still left littering the room, Megumi and Yuuji being two of them. They're both caught in a net of tense, thick air and Megumi can feel the lack of oxygen getting to his brain.
It's been a week and a bit (nine days and counting) and he still hasn't spoken to Yuuji yet. He's trying to figure out how long he can put it off before he genuinely dies. His hypothesis: not that much longer. Especially not with Yuuji's constant gaze, and constant presence, and the constant barrage of texts he's been sending to Megumi's phone. Yuuji's undeterred character had been what Megumi had fallen for in the first place, but now he thinks it might be the thing to finally kill him.
Megumi had been so caught up in pretending like he's not desperately trying to stare at Yuuji who's staring back at him in return, that he hadn't even noticed Panda return from his mission until he unceremoniously drops to the floor with a groan. "I'm starved half to death!" he wails out, and everyone else present ignores him, even as Inumaki giggles behind his hands.
"I could whip you up something in the dorms." Megumi's head snaps up at the sound of Yuuji's voice, his heart stuttering painfully.
"Really?" Panda asks from where he's still lying on the floor. He seems a bit guilty as he meets Yuuji's eyes, and it's probably because he's spent the last week pointedly ignoring the younger boy in favour of taking Megumi's side in a battle he never agreed to lead. "You wouldn't mind? I mean, if it's going to be a big effort I don't really-"
"It won't be," Yuuji cuts him off easily, sliding down from his seat as he reaches down to help Panda up. It's a funny image, a sixteen-year-old hauling a six-hundred-pound mammal up onto his feet. All it makes Megumi think about is the monster prowling under Yuuji's freckled and untouched skin, waiting to rear its ugly head. He's constantly on edge now, waiting for Sukuna to appear. With each passing day that the curse doesn't, Megumi thinks a whole year is shaved off of his life span.
"If I minded, I wouldn't have offered," Yuuji explains easily, catching Panda off guard with his honesty. Megumi knows none of them will get used to it. The simplicity in which Yuuji says things. The frankness with which he speaks. Smiling boyishly amongst a sea of beings predisposed to lie and hide beneath toothy smirks. Jujutsu sorcerers tend to let their blood speak for them; lips sewn shut.
It still catches Megumi off guard. Still sends him sprawling across the floor, chest heaving, and lips parted with a burning emotion he can't name. Doesn't want to name. Not anymore.
"Okay," Panda nods with a tight smile. "Alright then." And then they're walking past the table Megumi's sat at, Inumaki trailing after them, and he swears he feels Yuuji's arm brush along his neck. Refusing to give in just like that, he stays impossibly still, eyes trained firmly on his book. He counts backwards from five hundred, all the while deciding whether to stay put, or give into all of the pathetic, burning, mortifying things he feels for Itadori Yuuji. The best human to ever live, and the stupidest sorcerer to ever step foot in Jujutsu High. If you could even call him a sorcerer. Megumi is still strictly against the whole idea - bile rising in his throat every time he sees Yuuji leave with Nanami for their 'special training' or whatever the fuck Gojo seems to have managed to blackmail Nanami into doing.
When he gets to four-hundred and ninety-nine, he stands, snapping his book closed with a huff. Ignoring the slightly terrified look the new first year sends his way, he follows Yuuji's footsteps, a horrible pounding feeling in his chest. He finds almost everyone packed into the second-year dorm kitchen, so it isn't too hard to sneak in with little fanfare. Yuuji finds his eyes immediately anyway, as pleading and as hopeful as always. He doesn't look away until Yuuta gently tells him, "Your food is burning, Itadori-kun."
Sliding onto the couch beside Maki, he watches her sharpen her daggers and resolutely does not look over at Yuuji. Because if he looks over at Yuuji, he's just going to remember all the times he cooked for him, Megumi's feet knocked loosely around Yuuji's waist as the boy spooned sauce into his mouth, demanding to know whether he needed to add more salt. If he looks over at Yuuji, he's going to want to say something. Say anything. Say anything that might get Yuuji to leave this place with him and never come back. Say something, anything, that might get Yuuji to leave for Florida with him, where they can live under tangerine groves and sun-kissed lips. But Yuuji has already made his decision.
Biting furiously down on his bottom lip, he keeps his eyes on Maki, and burrows himself deeper into the couch. He listens to the sounds of plates being dished out, of Yuuji humming softly along to the song playing from Kirara's speaker. Listens as everyone falls into their seats around the table, Panda letting out a soft gasp of surprise. "This is bamboo rice!"
"Yeah," Yuuji responds, and even though Megumi's screwed his eyes shut, trying to feign sleep so no one tries to speak to him, he can see the grin in Yuuji's voice. His chest aches painfully. "You like it, right?"
"It's my favourite," Panda laughs out in disbelief. "I mean, I don't-how did you know?"
"You talked about it the other day," Yuuji hums. "It's not heard to get to know people better when you just listen." And that's Panda gone. Before he's even tasted the food, he's gone for the other boy, joining Yuuta on the list of people who love Itadori Yuuji.
Megumi listens, head half buried into the couch cushion, as everyone starts to eat. Kirara laughs loudly with Inumaki, Panda's lips slap against one another as he shovels the meal into his mouth, and Yuuta asks Maki how her training routine's going. When someone nudges Megumi's shoulder, he debates continuing to pretend. But he already knows who it is, and Yuuji's always been able to tell when he's faking sleep.
He lifts his head up slowly, staring up at the other boy through narrowed eyes. It's the first time they've been like this since everything happened, face to face with green meeting brown, and Megumi wants to die. He wants to Yuuji to die. He wants their inevitable future to hurry up and kill them both, so he doesn't have to live through this.
"You want some?" Yuuji asks, holding up a plate of risotto. Megumi just blinks at him, ignoring the food. "I left the asparagus out of this portion." Your portion, Megumi hears the unsaid words, because I know you don't like asparagus. He feels like throwing up all over the damned plate. "I already ate," he lies, voice not sounding like his own, turning away so he doesn't have to see Yuuji's face fall.
Inumaki stumbles into the same predicament as Panda an hour later. The risotto plates have been switched out for a board game, everyone shouting over each other in a peculiar mix of amusement and genuine rage. Megumi's still curled up on the couch, trying to work through his homework because he can't find it in himself to get up and leave.
He ends up watching the game unfold instead of focusing on his physics exercises. It's homework Gojo set anyway, and Megumi keeps having to stop himself from writing fuck off and kill yourself in every answer box.
He can pinpoint the exact moment Yuuji shoots Inumaki straight through the heart.
"Salmon!"
"Sorry," Kirara says to Inumaki apologetically, a soft frown painting her pretty features. They've all paused their fight over how one is supposed to properly purchase houses in Monopoly, everyone's eyes pinned on Inumaki, who looks like he wants the floor to swallow him up. "I don't understand," she says before turning to Panda with wide eyes, looking immensely guilty. But Panda merely shrugs in response, shooting Inumaki an remorseful grimace. "I don't know what you're saying either man," he frowns. "It's hard to get it when you're annoyed."
Inumaki's eyes water, choking up in embarrassed frustration. Beside him, Yuuta looks physically pained, and Maki's face is tight. They all seem upset, but no one knows what to do. There isn't anything to do.
Until Yuuji's moving his fingers in motions too quick for Megumi to even understand what's happening. His gut reaction is to assume Yuuji's using a Cursed Technique, before his brain catches up with his instincts to remind him that Yuuji barely has any control over his Cursed Energy, let alone a Technique. It isn't until Inumaki lets out a little surprised sound that he realises what's happening. The older boy signs back, eyes blinking wider and wider at Yuuji as a soft laugh escapes his tight lips.
"You know sign language?" Maki asks, voice painted in awe. Yuuji shrugs as he turns to her. "Sure. There was a deaf girl in my middle school. Inoue-kun. She was real pretty."
Megumi bites down on a splutter.
"Did everyone learn?" Kirara asks as she leans her chin on her palm, eyes sparkling as she pins them on Yuuji.
"Nah, don't think so," Yuuji admits. "But I always figured it was shitty that she didn't get to join in on the conversations just because of that. I mean, I'm not fluent or anything. Sorry," he adds, face flushed with pink as he scratches the back of his neck. His attention is solely on Inumaki know, fingers moving with his voice. "But I'm a fast learner!"
Inumaki signs something back, face lit up in a way Megumi has never seen before, and the blush on Yuuji's face colours tenfold.
From then on, Inumaki and Panda abandon their farce of hating Yuuji for Megumi's sake. It actually seems like they much prefer Yuuji's company to Megumi's, which while understandable, makes Megumi want to tear at something with his teeth. He can't do that, so instead he runs.
He runs a lot now, breathing heavy and feet light as he takes off around the school's track. The season is turning, and the days are shorter. The number of shadows doubles and their strength triples, and Megumi thinks he might be drowning under the weight of their darkness as they cling to him. The dark feels different in November. Dreary.
Feet pounding against the asphalt, Megumi wonders if he might ever be able to run so fast he might vanish. Bloop. Completely in the freedom of oblivion. Green eyes drifting towards the forest, leading out and over the mountains, to the sea, to the rest of the world. Maybe he could disappear, get so lost that no one could ever find him. Go so far that he would never be able to find his way home ever again. He thinks he might be halfway there already. But then he thinks of Tsumiki, and he thinks about her running in front of him their whole lives, brown hair unbound and cheeks rosy in the fresh air. And he thinks about her now, crumbling away slowly in her hospital bed smelling like someone else, and he runs faster.
The horrid sickness that has taken up permanent residence in his stomach lies as he runs. The air billows around him, cool and brisk and cutting at his skin. For a moment, as he curves around the bend of the track, he thinks he might scream. He feels like he has been replaced by Kon, a primal urge to snarl and howl and scream along with the wind tearing at his chest. He doesn't.
For a moment, he thinks he might cry instead, a heat pricking behind his eyes. But his emotions are too frayed and the hold he used to have on all of his shit has gone, and so all he does is continue running. Heart hammering, he runs faster, and thinks he must look possessed to anyone watching. Not that anyone is watching. It's five in the morning, and everyone else is dead to the world. Strides lengthening, Megumi can feel his body catching up with the desperation of his mind. He can feel his muscles tightening, scrambling to keep up with the pace he's set. His stomach lurches, and all he can do is continue running.
If he runs fast enough, maybe he can catch up to Gojo and Yuuji. Maybe he can stop them. Stop all of this. If he runs fast enough, maybe he can find his real father, and stop him too. Stop him from leaving him alone, and from turning into this creature. Maybe he can catch up to himself, throw out a hand that curls around a wrist to pull himself straight out of this nightmare. This nightmare where he's realising this husk of a body is not his.
It was his father's, and then it was the Zenins', and now it is Gojo's and Jujutsu's. The strings he thought he had cut were never sewn around his wrists. They are hammered into his bones. His cells, his sinew and the green of his irises. He thought he'd done it. Had been lit up with hope, because he'd done it. He'd found something untouched by Jujutsu, and it had almost saved him.
And yet here he is. Running under the laconic moon, a wolf with no bite.
His foot catches his ankle, and he skids across the track. He doesn't move for a long time, chest rising and falling.
Later that morning, on the same track, Megumi watches Maki fall in love with Yuuji.
"What the hell happened to you?" Nobara demands as she drops down beside him, nestled into a jacket that is most definitely not her's, and is most definitely Megumi's. "Huh?" he says, not really looking at her. A little bit because he's been out here since five in the morning and he's pretty sure he's half way to hypothermia, but mostly because Maki and Yuuji are training together for the first time ever, and Megumi wants to see if she kills him.
"You're scraped up," Nobara pushes on, gloved fingers coming up to lightly skirt over Megumi's face. He'd moved to sit down on the bleachers a while ago, Kon materialising out of the creamy, morning shadows to nip at his ankles until he pushed himself up off of the track. "Dumbass," Nobara clicks her tongue, flicking her fingers against his chin to force him to meet her eyes. "What happened?" she asks again, voice dipping into seriousness.
"I fell," he says with a shrug, shoving her hands away from his face. "I was running, and I slipped."
"You fell," Nobara repeats, tongue trying to wrap itself around the word. "You never fall." And that almost makes Megumi laugh, because all he's done his entire life is fall. Off of cliffs. Through the cracks. Of the deep end.
"Look, you should probably go inside. You're totally ice cold."
"Wait," he shakes his head, catching her wrist before she can leave. "Just-wait. I'll go inside in a bit. I just want to watch this," he finishes lamely, gesturing to Yuuji and Maki talking with one another in the middle of the track.
"You're kidding me," Nobara sighs prissily, but she sits back down anyway. "Look, Fushiguro. You're the one who dumped his ass, alright?" He doesn't respond, eyes caught on Yuuji as him and Maki finally split up, taking a couple steps away from each other. "You can't keep doing this. It isn't fair. To you or him."
"I'm not doing anything," he hisses. "I'm watching Maki train. You always watch Maki train."
"Because I'm obsessed with her!" Nobara finally barks out, and that does make Megumi glance over at her, green eyes wide with surprise. Well. That's…woah. He'd known, obviously. He won't claim that he's the best with social cues, or picking up on signals, but even he knows that Nobara has been in love with Maki almost as long as she's been a sorcerer. He just never thought Nobara would actually get around to admitting it out loud. He never thought this would be the reason why she finally did.
"I watch her train because it's impressive but mostly because it's hot. God, you're making me sound like a perverted guy!" she cries out in distress, clutching at her hair. "You're making me sound like you!"
"Hey," he objects with a frown. "I don't-"
"You're not watching Maki-senpai train, loser," she tells him, face painted with disgust as she releases her orange braids to jab a furious finger into his chest. "You're watching Ita-chan. Obviously. At least I try and hide how pathetic I am. You're just ridiculous! You need to get over it."
"I am over it. I want to kill the guy myself."
"Stop denying it, fuckwad. You've got to at least recognise what's happening here. And look, I know this entire situation is shitty, but at least you got to have Itadori. Even for a little bit. At least you got to be happy for a little bit."
"Kugisaki," he starts, scratching the nape of his neck.
"It's fine. I know where I stand. Maki-senpai's kind of obsessed with Okkotsu. Who can't get his head out of his ass for longer than two seconds to realise he's dragging both her and Inumaki along."
"I don't think Okkotsu knows that he's-"
"I don't care," Nobara shrugs, not even trying to hide the disgruntlement from her face. Megumi tries not to shrink in the face of it, but he hadn't even realised there was a weird love triangle (love quadrilateral?) going on. He's been too caught up on trying not to bang his head into his wall to remember that his classmates have their own shit going on. Guilt rises in his throat.
He's been a bad friend.
"Whatever," Nobara sighs, flopping down further in her seat. Megumi watches her with a grimace. "Maybe we can both watch them train and pretend like it's normal. Pretend that I'm not in love with a girl who doesn't even see me, and that you're not simultaneously harbouring carnal and murderous feelings for your ex."
"Carnal?" Megumi chokes out, brows knitting together when Nobara just shrugs, waving a dismissive hand through the air. A grunt draws his attention from his friend, and Megumi turns to watch Maki's foot connect with Yuuji's jaw, sending the boy flying through the air. Somehow, he manages to land on his palms, fingers pressing up and using the momentum to spring himself into a backflip, feet skidding across the grass as he lands. Megumi's mouth goes dry.
This is the first time he's properly watched Yuuji train. Nanami (the poor fucker) has been roped into teaching Yuuji some sort of fast-tracked Jujutsu course. He'd overheard the argument Nanami and Gojo had first had about it ("it's not like learning how to drive a fucking car, Gojo! You can't put the kid on some intensive course and expect him to pass!" "why not?") but Nanami had eventually cracked. Megumi's not talked to him about it, staunch in his decision to blatantly ignore most people in his life for the time being, but he can recognise Nanami's movement in Yuuji now.
"Taidō?" Maki asks with a grin she normally reserves for training with Megumi and Inumaki. They're the only other students properly versed in any martial arts training, both crawling out from Jujutsu clans, and they used to be the only ones Maki would deem acceptable to try and train with. She got bored pretty quickly all the same, and only seemed to ever really be happy when sparring with Kusakabe or Gojo.
"Yeah," Yuuji nods earnestly, moving quicker than should be possible. His legs are moving in a flurry of steps, and the breath is stolen from Megumi's lungs as he watches Yuuji kick Maki down onto her back. "I was my dojo's champion for a while."
"What happened?"
"Got bored," he shrugs, just as he firms a solid punch to the gut. Maki's grin only widens at that, ponytail swishing as she practically leaps on Yuuji. Megumi watches them spar with bated breath, head in his hands. Yuuji's brilliant. He's always known that. But seeing this is a whole new thing. Yuuji's not just brilliant to him. He's brilliant to all of them now. To the world. Yuuji's brilliance belongs to the world now.
Megumi isn't brilliant at all. He's background noise. Landscape.
"Wait!" Yuuji suddenly calls out, leaning forward to catch Maki around the waist before she falls, taking all of her weight into her arms.
"Itadori-kun," she says firmly, face painted a bright red. "You're not supposed to save your opponents. You're supposed to let them fall." Yuuji just laughs lightly, placing Maki back down on her feet gently before he's crouching down and pointing.
"Look," he says softly, reaching forward with his hands into the strands of grass. "You were gonna squish him." Megumi can't see what it is that Yuuji's holding from where he's sat, sharing a look of confusion with Nobara before Maki is speaking flatly and answering their silent question. "A beetle," she deadpans.
"Yeah. Cute, right?" Megumi's chest pangs as he watches a smile tug its way onto Yuuji's lips. He always liked bugs when he was younger. Running his tongue over his teeth, he vaguely recounts a washed-up memory of catching bugs with a teenage Gojo, heartbroken when he realised, he couldn't keep bugs as pets. Rearranging the picture in his mind, a baby Yuuji appears beside his younger self. Digging in the dirt together, smiles silly and untouched and young. He wonders what it could've been like – if him and Yuuji had met before everything got so messed up. So irreversibly streaked with mud.
"Not especially, no," Maki shrugs, even as she bends down slightly, glancing over Yuuji's shoulder to peer down at his palms.
"Yeah, you're kinda right," the boy laughs, head thrown back slightly. The dye in his hair is fading, and certain parts look blonder than pink in the sharp, Winter sun. Megumi paints over the urge to run his fingers through it with the image of Yuuji strung up by a curse, blonde hair inked pink with spilt blood. "But even still, the little guy doesn't deserve to be crushed. Ugly as he might be."
"What are you talking about?" Maki demands, straightening up as Yuuji cups his palms.
"Huh?" he asks as he lets the bug go, standing up with a satisfied look on his face. "What's wrong with preserving life when we can?"
"It's a beetle. You interrupted our spar to save a beetle," she frowns, nose crinkling up in what Megumi thinks might be more confusion than irritation. If she was really pissed off, Yuuji would've been wacked over the head by now.
"Yeah. Interrupting the spar didn't lose us anything. It would've lost the beetle his life."
"Again," Maki scoffs out. "It's a bug."
"So what?" Yuuji shrugs. "We're all just bugs to someone." Megumi watches Maki flinch, green eyes, the mirror image to his own, widening with horror. "Doesn't mean squashing them's okay. Not like they've done anything. You can't kill something for the crime of being small," Yuuji finishes by dusting his hands off on his shorts, crouching back down into his fighting stance. But Maki hasn't moved, mouth parted up with something like quiet awe. Staring down at Yuuji with something like admiration.
Yuuji cocks his head, looking like a confused dog, but Megumi understands. Understands that Maki was persecuted for the crime of being small, just as Megumi was. Her sister's currently still being punished for the very same crime. Yuuji can't know – blind to the horrors unleashed by the clans. But Maki knows just as well as Megumi and Gojo. She knows more than all of them, body forever connected to the people she so badly desires to distance herself from. She can ignore the Zenins. She can go her entire life without speaking of them, without speaking to them. She can lose their name.
She cannot extract the vicious, sharp green from her eyes. She cannot drain herself of the blood that flows through her veins. She cannot carve her heart, her sister's heart, from her chest.
"Every morning," she says before she drops down into her own fighting stance, one foot in front of the other, chest rising and falling breathily. Yuuji blinks up at her. "We'll spar here every morning from now on. Don't be late. I'll kick your ass if you're late."
"Yes ma'am," Yuuji nods, grin wild and happy, before he pounces.
True to his word, Yuuji's never late. Megumi's not surprised, as he watches from his dorm window each morning. Yuuji's never been late for anything before. It's not his style, really. To waste other people's time – especially people he respects. He's too kind for that. Not too kind to go easy on Maki though, he thinks as he watches Yuuji catch her around her ankle before his fist is going for her jugular. He's managed to stop himself from sitting on the bleachers, only allowing himself that very first sparring session. He's too afraid that Yuuji might take it as a sign, might try and talk to Megumi after, all sparkling eyes and soft voice. He's scared he might end up listening to him.
Instead, he watches from afar like he's used to. He particularly watches as Yuuji interacts with the new first year. Megumi hadn't even bothered to learn the kid's name at the start. It had been weird. Someone new showing up at the start of the semester, looking up with wide, terrified eyes. Looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not even when he wanted them to. Now, it makes boke rise in his chest.
"You're Fushiguro Megumi," the kid had stuttered out on the first day back at class, three months ago. The wind smelt like cut grass, and the air tasted like metal slides. His lips were stained red by the cherries he'd eaten earlier that day, rolling around in a park with Yuuji. The bread they'd shared was sitting in his stomach, and Megumi felt warm. His neck was sunburnt, and he felt alive. He'd felt happy.
"Uh, yeah," he had nodded at the kid, shooting Nobara a glance as she watched them carefully.
"The Ten Shadows. You have the Ten Shadows," the kid said, words tumbling from his lips like bile. His teeth were trembling, and Megumi realised with a horrified start that the kid was scared of him. The kid was looking up at him with big, brown eyes and was terrified of him. He didn't know why, but his first instinct was to scowl. His anger is what has kept him alive, and as Megumi looked into the face of the kid, all he could see was his own face. At six, and ten, and sixteen. Terrified of himself.
He left, not willing to hear what else the kid had to say to him. He left, without asking for the kid's name.
"Kaji-kun!" Yuuji yells out now, back from his training with Nanami. He flies into the canteen with a whooping sound, waving about a copy of Shonen Jump. Megumi's sat beside Kirara, helping her go through her politics essay. He'd said it would be better in the library, but she'd waved him off with a smile. "I can't study well in silence, Megumi-kun. I need a little bit of something going on." It hadn't made any sense, but he'd given up on Kirara and Hikari making sense a long time ago. Now, he watches with a tight frown as Kirara's attention is torn away from her essay, pen tapping erratically against the table as she stares at Yuuji and Kaji.
"Chapter nine-hundred and sixty-three, dude!" Yuuji's the only one who speaks to Kaji like a peer instead of a child. Megumi doesn't speak to him at all, refusing to see himself as the first year does. No one else particularly bothers to either, apart from mealtimes when the kid looks like the picture of depression sitting all by himself. But Yuuji's the only one who actually attempts to hang out with him. Megumi can't pinpoint the moment he fell in love with Yuuji too, but he thinks it probably happened before Yuuji even enrolled.
"Nanamin got it for me. We can read it together." It's only then that Megumi realises Nanami has stepped into the canteen with Yuuji, head turning to see the older man caught in the doorway. Jaw clenched, back straight and holding his breath, Megumi assumes that Nanami is acting awkward because of his presence, given that Megumi has sent every call from the older man to voicemail over the past few weeks.
Gojo doing this behind his back was brutal. Yuuji doing this behind his back was unforgivable.
He doesn't know why Nanami agreeing to train Yuuji feels worse. Like a betrayal crueller than his father and lover's. But he can't find it within himself to try and speak about it.
He doesn't want to hear Nanami rationalise it, because while it's easy to push back against Gojo and Yuuji, he knows it won't be as easy to ignore Nanami. Not with his gentle words and firm voice and smile that hasn't changed the entirety he's known the man. He can't listen to Nanami explain away this problem the same way he taught Megumi how to lay out argumentative essays, or the same way he showed him how to neatly fold his clothes. He can't listen to Nanami, because Nanami was supposed to be it. He was supposed to be the one who got away. He was supposed to be the one to show them all it was possible. That you could get out of here and be fine. Be better than fine. You could get out of here and live. And he failed.
Quickly, it dawns on him that Nanami isn't looking at him at all. Green eyes are caught on Yuuji, stupidly waving the manga in front of Kaji's face. No. Green eyes are caught on…Kaji?
"Haibara?" The name is strangled in Nanami's voice, as if he's trying his best to swallow it back down. Like sick rising in his chest, coating his throat. "Haibara? How-?"
"I'm Kaji," the kid frowns, brow raised as he looks from Nanami to Yuuji. "Kaji Yu. I don't know any Haibara, sorry," he shrugs. "Is this the guy who's training you?" he asks as he turns to Yuuji, lips curving up in a joking smile, as if to say, what's this crazy old guy on about? But Yuuji is watching Nanami carefully, and Megumi watches him piece the parts together in his mind. Parts Megumi hadn't even known Yuuji knew about.
It figures, he thinks to himself as the same pieces fall together in his mind. Sorcerers often come from the same family. It figures that Haibara Yu's sister would name her living, breathing kid after her dead and buried kid brother. It figures that Kaji wouldn't know how his uncle died – if he even knows Haibara Yu ever existed. It figures, he thinks as he watches the older man flee the room, sweat curling his pristine blond hair, that this would be Nanami's reaction.
"What's that all about?" Kirara asks, voice dropping to a whisper as she twirls the pen around her knuckles in an impressive show of dexterity.
"I think he's related to a dead sorcerer," Megumi hums, because this isn't an anomaly in their world. Happens more often than not, to be honest. "Nanami's old classmate from school."
"Shit," Kirara winces gently. "Why wouldn't Gojo-sensei tell him? Letting him find out like this is a bit…" she trails off, but Megumi understands. It's ruthless, to let Nanami stumble upon the ghost of his old friend. Vicious to make one of their own confront the nightmares that plague all of their minds. "Gojo's a fucking asshole," Megumi hisses, and all he gets in response is a sideways glance before Kirara quickly goes back to her essay, attention dropped from the bleak subject. Megumi nods along, but he keeps his eyes on Kaji and Yuuji as he holds his head up in his hands.
"Don't worry about it Kaji-kun," Yuuji's saying, one arm thrown around the smaller boy's shoulders as he tugs him into his side. "You didn't do anything wrong. Nanamin's probably just tired from having to deal with my ass all day."
"But I don't understand," Kaji grits out. "Who's Haibara?"
"I dunno," Yuuji answers truthfully. "But maybe you should ask Gojo-sensei about it. If it's bothering you."
"Gojo-sensei's not been around for weeks," Kaji sighs unhappily, and Megumi doesn't miss the glance Yuuji shoots in his direction. "Ichiji-san's basically my teacher now."
"Ask when he's back. Until then, just try and let it go. You've not done anything wrong, so try not worry." Kaji seems content to leave it at that for now, nodding gingerly before his attention switches to the open manga on Yuuji's lap. Megumi watches as they read it together, chuckling and jabbing their fingers into certain panels. Yuuji's arm doesn't leave the spot around Kaji's shoulder, and the tenderness of it all rips Megumi apart bit by bit. It feels like someone yanking on a hang-nail and peeling his skin away ribbon by ribbon.
He wishes it didn't escape him – the capacity for tenderness. The capability to be gentle. He knows he was gentle once. When he was younger, and still fascinated by bugs, and the smell of vanilla, and the dream that his father would come home and sweep him up in his arms. He wants to be gentle again. But being gentle won't keep him alive anymore, and he doesn't understand how he could ever have both. Tenderness and survival.
Soon, Yuuji will see it. Soon, Yuuji will see what Kaji sees and shrink away from Megumi. He will stop trying. He will stop texting him, and knocking on his door and begging for him to hear him out. He will stop leaving mugs of coffee on the kitchen island in the morning and cups of teas at his desk in the evening. Yuuji will look up and see what Megumi is and regret ever even loving him in the first place. Any day now. Any minute now.
He doesn't. It gets worse when he officially moves into the dorms.
Into the room right beside Megumi's.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather continue residing in your grandfather's flat, Yuuji?" Choso's here, because of course he is. Megumi's been listening to him pace up and down the corridor the entire day, too busy freaking out to help everyone else even carry in Yuuji's boxes.
"It's your flat now, remember Choso?" Yuuji gently reminds him, and Megumi considers slamming his own door shut at the tenderness in his voice. He doesn't. He's felt too awkward, trapped in his own room. His stomach is grumbling painfully loudly, but he thinks he'd rather starve to death than swallow his pride and walk past Yuuji and Choso to get into the kitchen. The only edible thing in his room is a discarded protein bar Yuuji left behind, sat beside a dog-eared copy of One Piece that Yuuji also left behind. That was three weeks ago now though, so Megumi thinks he can hold out a bit longer instead of eating that shit.
"Our flat," Choso corrects, and Megumi rolls his eyes at it all. "And my point stands. The flat is more comfortable than…this place."
"Ah, I'll be fine nii-chan. Campus is cool."
"There are signs of domestic negligence," Choso comments, and Megumi hears a chorus of groans coming from the students who offered to help Yuuji move in. "Didn't this asshole spend centuries living in a fucking jar?" Kirara hisses under her breath, followed by an answering giggle from Inumaki and Panda. Megumi finds a small smile curling up on his own face, rolling onto his stomach to shove his face into his pillow. He tries to be as quiet as possible, only slightly (insanely) terrified at the prospect of Choso realising he's right next door, and deciding that it's a lovely day to slit the throat of his baby brother's ex-boyfriend.
"You read actual books, Ita-chan?" Panda's booming voice comes echoing out into Megumi's room. "Never would've guessed." Megumi pushes himself up into a sitting position, hesitating before he presses the side of his face against the wall. "Woah," Kirara hums. He can hear people walking around, the floor creaking. "You've got so many."
"Ah," Yuuji chuckles awkwardly. "Well. Most of them were my grandpa's. He was big into reading. Figured I'd bring them with me."
"Dude, you're into Mishima?" Hakari asks, happily surprised. Heart squeezing, Megumi lets his forehead lightly knock against the wall. "Spring Snow?" Screwing his eyes shut, he waits with bated breath for Yuuji to answer. He can picture the book on Yuuji's shelf, in Hakari's hand, vividly. He knows it has a coffee stain on the back, a wobbly ring painted across the picture of Mishima. He knows the top right corners have been folded and then pressed out again. He knows which sentences have been underlined, Megumi's own handwriting scrawled over the pages.
A sharp pain shoots through him, and he falls onto his side, shoulder against the wall as he hangs his head. He wonders how many of the possessions that Yuuji had packed away to bring here, placing into moving boxes with heart-breaking care, are Megumi's possessions. Possessions that got mixed up, swapped between them both until their ownership muddled into one. He blinks his eyes open and stares at the manga lying on his desk.
"Yeah," Yuuji says eventually, word sounding dull in his mouth. "I-yeah. I like his writing. Someone gave me that book. It was one of their favourites, I think." It is. Yuuji knows it is.
"Oh man," Hakari laughed. "Fucking finally. I've been waiting for someone like you for so long, dude. No one else around here fucks with literature. At least, not the classics. Babe, I'm not talking about Vogue," he adds with a sigh, even though he can't ever really hide the fondness in his voice when he's speaking to Kirara. "I mean, Meg does, but he doesn't like hanging out with anyone…like ever."
"Yeah. I mean…yeah," Yuuji trails off, floundering pathetically. Megumi brings his legs up to his chest, dropping his head onto his knees. He kind of wants his book back now. It's his only copy, and he'd never intended for Yuuji to keep it anyway. Just like he never intended for half his sweaters to get stolen and replaced with Uniqlo shirts that are far too big for his frame. Just like he never intended for his camera roll to be flooded with pictures of a boy with brown eyes and a bright smile. Just like he never intended to get his heart broken like this.
"We can talk about it. Don't think I'll have anything insightful to say though," Yuuji mutters, and Megumi grinds down on his teeth.
"Doubt that," Hakari says easily. "Anyway, with a little bit of green in you everything ends up sounding insightful."
"What is green?" Choso cuts in, Inumaki and Panda giggling to themselves.
"Ask Yuki-san," Yuuji responds, and before Choso can say anything else, everyone else in the room is shouting over one another. "Tsukumo Yuki? The fuck?"
"Yes," Choso answers, voice as formal as ever but sounding kind of confused. "She is my companion."
"They're dating," Yuuji translates with an amused huff. There's a brief moment of silence before everyone is yelling demands over each other again.
"You're dating a Special Grade sorcerer, even though you're a curse?" Panda roars in disbelief. ("He's not really a curse," Yuuji responds. "He's way too obsessed with microwave ramen to be a real curse.")
"You're Tsukumo Yuki's man? She's like a straight ten and she's dating you?" Hakari laughs incredulously. ("Hey, Cho-chan's a handsome guy. And he's got a great personality too!")
"Can you bring her around sometime? She's like my favourite sorcerer. She's the only Special Grade who hasn't gone crazy or died, and it's totally because she's a woman." ("Stop using him to social climb. Ask Gojo-sensei for her number, Jesus.")
Inumaki must sign something, muttering "Bonito flakes," under his breath, because Yuuji's scoff of disgust is audible through the wall. ("That's my big brother, dude! Gross.")
Everyone ends up filing out of Yuuji's room eventually, and Megumi just sits there on his bed, back against the wall they share. He tries to imagine Yuuji doing the same in his head, but instead of picturing the other boy, he can only manage to conjure up a blur. A blur with warm eyes the colour of cinnamon and laughter that feels like home. Tengen, he just wants to go home. He rubs his fist against his chest, jaw wobbling. Head tilted, he considers stumbling from his bed, throwing his door open and crawling to Yuuji. Covered in their blood, foaming at the mouth with snapping jaws. Crawling home.
Before he can, he hears Yuuji's door swing open again, and Hakari laughing wildly. He spends that entire night tucked up against the wall, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and listening to their conversation, swallowing around the lump in his throat. They talk about Mishima, giggling about nihilism and love. They talk about the books in the library, and how one student in 2006 has signed almost every single one of them out. They talk about starting a book club where they get high, and Yuuji snorts, asking if it counts as a club if there's only two of them. Hakari says they should track down the kid from 2006, and they dissolve into a fit of laughter. They talk about the League of Legends anime and One Piece, and the hottest characters in One Piece and Kirara and Nietzsche, and Megumi's heart hurts.
He listens to Hakari fall just as everyone else has – hook, line and sinker.
Unfurling, his bare feet pad against the floor as he crosses his room. He leaves the One Piece manga on the floor outside Yuuji's room, dropping the old protein bar on top of it. The next morning, when he leaves for his run, both items are gone. He notices the protein bar wrapper in the bin, nose crinkling at the idea of eating the thing. But he supposes he shouldn't be surprised – Yuuji is willing to swallow down entire rotting fingers. What's an old protein bar compared to that?
Like her boyfriend, Kirara falls in love with Yuuji in his dorm room as well. It's getting late one night, and Megumi's tongue is running over his teeth in irritation. His own laptop screen is blinking up at him, but he can't concentrate due to the loud screeching coming from the room over. He's surprised Nobara hasn't gone over to demand they shut the fuck up yet, but he's completely unwilling to do it himself. He won't debase himself like that. So he stares at the University of Tokyo page blankly as he listens to Hakari yell, "Riot Games, you pieces of shit! Your game is fucking wack!" Followed by the familiar sound of something being tossed against the wall.
"Jesus Christ!" Yuuji hisses out, voice dropping an octave. "Stop throwing shit against the fucking wall, man. That's Megumi's room. Throw it at the door or something, alright?" Something unfurls in Megumi's gut as Yuuji swears. It's off-putting, hearing him use religion as a curse. It always has been, because Megumi grew up hearing Gojo, Nanami and Shoko cursing Tengen to hell and back. But now, it curdles something in his mind. Because now, Yuuji is the paschal lamb. Throat slit, his blood sparing them from destruction.
"Why are they four stacking A?" Kirara cries out in irritation, high voice cutting through both Yuuji and Hikari's grumbling. "I'm never gonna hit Plat at this rate, goddamn it! Ino's gonna win our bet, and I am going to be so in debt to that asshole!"
"I could try," Yuuji offers. The two third years must send him a severe look of questioning, because he's instantly elaborating, "I mean, I'm Diamond. I can play for you so you can rank up."
"You're fucking Diamond?" Hikari demands, but he's shushed by Kirara who practically squeals in delight. "Yes. Fuck these guys. Please play, Itadori!" Megumi catches a glimpse of his own scowling reflection in his laptop screen, slamming it shut with more force than necessary.
"Oh, I could fucking kiss you Ita-chan," Kirara laughs. Manically, the type of laugh that only comes from cheating in a video game against twelve-year-olds. "Hands to yourself, kid," Hakari warns, and Yuuji just chuckles in response. "Right. My turn, assholes," he's then saying. "Watch how a real man plays."
Ten minutes later, something else is thrown against the wall. Snarling, Megumi looks around for the heaviest thing he might have in his room. When he can't instantly find anything, his hands are moving of their own accord, and Kon is racing from the shadows beneath his bed, thudding against the wall as hard as he can.
He realises that this plan might not be one of his best when Kon huffs backwards to reveal a snout-shaped hole in the wall. "Fuck," he chokes out with a cringe. Oh, fuck his entire life.
"Uh," a familiar voice calls through the wall before Yuuji's face appears. "Hi," he says, face pricked with crimson. "Sorry – were we too, uh-loud?" Megumi feels the heat rising on his own face, firmly keeping his mouth shut as he rushes to cover the crumbling plaster with his shadows, pooling them together until they're opaque.
Then he drops down to his floor, hands over his mouth to bury the sound of his wincing groan. Fuck. He's got to get a grip on himself.
He falls asleep to Hikari and Kirara roaring with laughter, and wakes up to find a piece of paper tacked to his door. Stop damaging school property, Gumi-chan. I'm the one who has to pay for it. As usual, instead of signing his name, Gojo's drawn a chibi version of himself. A spitting anger flares up, and Megumi snatches the note from his door, crumpling it in his fist. He tosses it into the bin on his way out. He runs fast that morning, faster than he ever has, but he can't even find it in himself to be proud of his new personal best.
"Fucking asshole," he hisses, and then realises he's alone on the track, as well as alone in everything else. "Asshole!" he yells, the cold air burying itself under his skin like shrapnel. The wind howls with him, accompanying his singing rage. "Fucking coward! Can't even come and talk to me face-to-face! You don't give a damn about property damage!"
He knows there's shit still stirring with the Zenin and Kamo clans, but he also knows that's a perfect excuse for a deserter like Gojo. He knows he said he didn't want to speak to him, but he also knows that's a perfect excuse for a deserter like Gojo.
A muddy despair continues to throb through his veins.
Nobara is the last person to fall. Yuuji is perfectly nice to her the entire time, but Nobara merely answers every question or comment with either silence, or a borderline cruel remark. If Megumi were a better person, he'd tell her to stop. He doesn't.
But one day, her and Yuuji come back from a joint mission in Harajuku and Megumi finds them cooking together. Nobara had been excited, talking his ear off about it for the entire week. She'd never been before, but had saved about a hundred videos on her phone of all the fashionable people that walked up and down the streets there. "Don't you think I'll fit in perfectly?" she'd laugh, head thrown back and eyes sparkling.
Now, her face is still, as if to not aggravate the grazes drawn across her cheek: three violent lines of red cutting through porcelain. "Hey," she calls to him as he passes, stopping him in his tracks.
He turns, body stiffening when his eyes catch on brown. Yuuji does the same, Adam's apple bobbing as the knife he's using to chop a cucumber almost goes straight through his pinkie finger. He swears under his breath, dashing to the sink to hold his wound under the running water. Megumi's lips part with concern, but Nobara ignores him.
"We're making watermelon salad," she tells Megumi, looking up from under her eyelashes. He thinks she's trying to silently communicate something to him, something like an apology, but he can't read her. Not this time. Not that he didn't see this coming. It was inevitable. No one who's met Itadori Yuuji hasn't fallen for him. Nobara held out as long as she could. He doesn't blame her.
"You wanna help?" she asks, and there's a meaning in her words, in her voice, in the way she tilts her chin at him.
Megumi ignores it and resolutely shakes his head. "No." He doesn't miss the way Yuuji seems to deflate, shoulders sagging and head hanging as he stays where he is in front of the sink. He doesn't miss the way Yuuji seems to deflate, but Megumi has been feeling the exact same way for the past month (three weeks and four days) now, so Yuuji can go fuck himself. He has been watching, and waiting, for Yuuji to not come home. He has been watching, and waiting, for all of this to end.
"Later," Megumi says to Nobara before he leaves, heading to train with Yuuta. He gets his ass kicked atrociously, and Yuuta is still refusing to tell him his special, secret idea that might help him train to defeat his next shikigami. He's feeling worse than usual, which he thinks is why the damn salad makes him sob.
Their dorm is dark when he returns, shadows oppressive as they cling to him, scraping along the back of his nape. It's only when he opens the fridge, does the artificial, orange light illuminate it. A small bowl of watermelon salad, left on his shelf. A little note, familiar handwriting inked across the margins. For Megumi. He has no idea which one of them suggested leaving him a portion, but he doesn't think it matters much.
He doesn't realise there are tears clinging to his jaw until he picks up the bowl, cradling it to his chest. Silently, he grabs a fork and heads to his room, terrified at the prospect of one of them noticing he's back. It isn't until he's sat at his desk, does he realise where they actually are. Peeking over his windowsill, he finds two people sat outside in Nobara's favourite spot. They're passing a bottle of sake between each other, and Megumi wonders if it's normal for sorcerers to slip into alcoholism at sixteen. He thinks about Shoko, and then the sorcerers who might actually benefit from a splash of alcoholism like Nanami, and drops his head down against the window.
Nobara and Yuuji are facing away from him, the skyline of Tokyo below casting neon rays of light dancing across their silhouettes. Nobara's changed out of her uniform, one of Megumi's shirts hanging low on her collarbones and her shorts peeking out. There are goosebumps rising on her bare legs, but she doesn't make any move to head back inside, leaning forward and holding onto her ankles, head on her knees. Yuuji's also in one of Megumi's shirts, and the entire scene makes his head hurt. Now that they're out of their uniforms, he can see the bandages peeking out from their clothes. Tied tightly around the side of Nobara's neck, and wound neatly around Yuji's arm.
They're clearly halfway through a conversation, but Megumi only feels a little bit bad about eavesdropping. Silently nudging the window open, he sits at his desk and chews through the watermelon and shiso. Kon pads across the room, dropping his head onto Megumi's lap as his eyes sleepily droop shut.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Yuuji says with a humourless laugh, his shadow passing the bottle to Nobara. "I mean, I never thought I knew what I was doing. But then we almost died today, and I realised…I really don't know what I'm doing."
"Yeah. Neither." She takes a swig. "My friend back home gave me this plant once. No idea what it was, but it had little orange flowers. She gave it to me for my birthday."
"Sounds nice," Yuuji hums.
"Yeah. I gave it too much water and it died."
"Oh. Shit."
Kon's fur is soft as Megumi threads his fingers through it. "Yeah. I guess love can be…unforgiving like that, sometimes."
"I guess. I don't want that kind of love though."
"Neither," Nobara says with a soft sigh, brushing her hair behind her ears as she shakes her head. "Maybe that's better than no love at all though."
There's a lull in the conversation, and all Megumi can think about is something Gojo said to him once. About love being the worse curse of all. An inexorable curse. An inevitable curse. Megumi thinks he might have been right.
Yuuji drops his head into his hands, clutching his hair. He should dye it again. It's almost completely blond now, strands of hay clutched in his fists. "I keep dreaming that he's forgiven me." The tension in Megumi's chest builds like fire in a dry forest, licking along his ribs like tree roots. He bites down on a piece of melon. "And then I wake up." A broken sound leaves Yuuji's lips. "I wake up and he won't even talk to me. I don't know how to get him to talk to me. He won't even fucking look at me." There's a pause, Yuuji taking in a shuddering breath that sounds more like a heave. "Fuck. God. Sorry. I know he's your friend and-"
"He is my friend. My best friend, probably." Megumi stills, the food in his mouth dissolving into mush as he stares outside. "That's why I want the best for him. I just don't think he knows what that is."
"And you do?" Yuuji huffs out, hoarse and dry. Large hands curl around the neck of the bottle, strong and calloused. It's strange, to know those hands so intimately but no longer touch them. No longer have the right to touch them.
"No," Nobara shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself. "But I know that this isn't it."
"I wanted to save him," Yuuji breathes. "Save him from everything. And that was before I knew about all this bullshit."
"Itadori, you don't even know half of his bullshit," Nobara snorts. She doesn't even know half of his bullshit.
"Yeah. I figured." There's a pause, the two of them simmering in the comfortable silence. "That just makes it worse though. Makes me want to save him even more. Get him out of…whatever it is he's stuck in." Megumi doesn't understand how he could possibly ever get out of his own body.
"Yeah, well you can't save everyone, idiot," Nobara sighs heavily. "Especially not the guy you're in love with. That's like…totally a recipe for disaster. He's gotta save himself. He's gotta want to save himself."
Megumi leans over to shut the window, watching Nobara knock her knee against Yuuji's. He finishes the salad before leaving the bowl on his desk. Lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, Kon curls up into his side, heavy head leaning on Megumi's arm.
That night, he dreams of forgiving Yuuji. And then he wakes up.