Work Text:
Itadori Yuuji was soft light, peeking through the windows of Fushiguro’s life. His blinding smile was too intense to look at for too long, and yet Fushiguro couldn’t tear his eyes away. His loud words, his exaggerated jokes, his bellowing laugh. Itadori Yuuji was a soft light, and he had managed to cast his glow across Fushiguro’s life in record time.
It felt like an eternal sunrise. Itadori Yuuji glowed pink, Fushiguro realized. His bright grin, his pink hair, his blushing cheeks. Everything about him had screamed “alive” from the moment Fushiguro saw him.
Yet, all he saw now was Itadori’s body falling to the floor, over and over, dying and dying. It felt like the universe had been upturned. How could someone so full of life die? Fushiguro couldn’t understand. He felt as though he had experienced an eclipse, only for the sun to be snuffed out at the last minute, and never come back.
Fushiguro’s days turned grey. As he tried to force himself to stick to his routine at Jujutsu Tech, he slowly realized how much color Itadori had inserted into his life. He had charged in without a single thought, and barged through every single wall Fushiguro had put up, only to leave him alone after.
Guilt weighed down his thoughts every day, intrusive and heavy, as his brain supplied him with endless nightmares of Itdaori’s lifeless body falling onto the concrete floor. It was his fault. He had gotten cocky after meeting Itadori, had forgotten how truly dangerous a jujutsu sorcerer's life was. And now he was dead, and Fushiguro could do nothing but go back to the greyed out world he knew before.
Kugisaki seemed worried, and tried to get him to open up as much as she could. Deep down, Fushiguro felt guilty for ignoring her help, as he knew she was going through the same thing. Nevertheless, it was different. Kugisaki had Maki, he thought, as he saw her giggle when Maki made some offhand joke about the upcoming exchange event. He knew Itadori and Kugisaki had been good friends, had seen them chase each other through the city in search of a place to have dinner in, and laugh together when Goujo-sensei picked his own eccentric choice. He didn’t know what Itadori had been to Kugisaki, but he knew there was no way her world had turned grey as his had.
Jujutsu Tech was his home, and yet Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice how lackluster it seemed when it wasn’t bathed in the pink light of Itadori’s presence next to him as he walked the endless halls and sat in the courtyards. He hadn’t realized how monochrome his world was before Itadori, yet it seemed painfully evident now that he was gone.
The first morning after Itadori moved to Jujutsu Tech, Fushiguro had been woken by a rhythmic knocking on his bedroom door. He’d clutched his pillow and put it over his head, trying to drown the noise and attempting to go back to sleep. The knocking only got more persistent, and Fushiguro sighed as he realized there was only one person who could be knocking on his door this insistently on a Sunday morning.
“Fushigurooooo!” Came Itadori’s voice from the door, erasing any doubts Fushiguro could’ve had about who was bothering him.
He still didn’t understand why Goujo-sensei had put Itadori’s room right next to his. He didn’t particularly mind Itadori, but he liked his peace and quiet. Jujutsu Tech was big enough that they could’ve lived in the same campus and never seen each other except for classes.
He slowly rose from his bed, scratching absentmindedly at his neck. As he swung the door open, he was startled awake by something falling onto him, making him tumble to the floor.
Not some thing . Some one.
“Fushiguro!” Itadori exclaimed, looking up at him. They were both sprawled on the floor, and Fushiguro belatedly realized that Itadori must’ve been leaning on the door, causing him to fall forwards when he opened it.
“What do you want?” Fushiguro said, still half-asleep.
“Wow, your morning voice is deep!” Itadori said, smiling at him. “I wanted to make breakfast! But I have no idea where anything is here, so I thought you could help me?”
Fushiguro stared straight at him, trying to muster as much murderous intent as he could into a single glare. Itadori seemed to notice his annoyance, but his eyes stayed locked onto Fushiguro’s. Suddenly, they sparkled up, as if the metaphorical lightbulb hanging above his head had been lit up.
“If you come with me, I’ll make breakfast for you too!” Itadori added, tone persuasive.
Fushiguro thought about his own typical breakfasts. Since they normally started training so early, he’d normally eat a protein bar from his stash before training, and hold off until lunch. A good, actual breakfast suddenly seemed quite tempting.
“Fine.” Fushiguro said. He stood up and offered his hand to Itadori. “Come on, breakfast won’t make itself. Give me a minute to change and I’ll join you.”
Itadori cheered and took his hand to raise himself to his feet, and Fushiguro noted how warm the other’s hand was. He silently mourned the loss as Itadori turned around and started walking down the hallway. He realized too late what he had just thought, and amended in his brain that he had reacted that way simply because of the chilly morning they were having.
Shaking his head, Fushiguro rummaged through his closet, grabbing a comfortable hoodie and some joggers to wear over his sleep attire, which could largely be blamed for how cold he was, as he only slept with a t-shirt and some boxers. After changing, Fushiguro walked out into the hall. He looked for Itadori and was quick to find him bouncing a ball on the wall next to his room.
“Ready?” Itadori said, picking up his ball and bouncing it on the floor instead. They started walking, Fushiguro leading them.
“Sure.” Fushiguro replied. “What are you doing?”
Itadori looked confused as to what he was referring to, and Fushiguro looked pointedly at the ball.
“Oh!” Itadori said, as if he had forgotten he was bouncing it. “Force of habit. I’ve gotten used to always carrying one around, it helps me maintain my hands occupied. Helps me concentrate too.”
Fushiguro hummed in acknowledgement, and they resumed their walk in silence. He silently wondered why Itadori had woken him up instead of simply exploring the Jujutsu Tech facilities on his own. As though it had heard him, Itadori’s stomach produced a loud rumbling noise, making both of them start. Itadori laughed nervously.
“To tell you the truth, I’ve been awake for a while now. I crashed early yesterday, but woke up early in the morning.” Itadori said. “This place is really huge and really fancy, I’m sure I would get lost in a second if I tried to find a kitchen by myself.”
Fushiguro nodded and hummed again, considering Itadori’s comment. He felt weird, as though Itadori had read his mind and immediately found out what he was silently wondering. It was a good kind of weird though, and they fell back into a comfortable conversation as they walked the path to the kitchen. Rather, Itadori chattered as Fushiguro silently listened, occasionally humming or nodding to show he was paying attention.
The campus really was huge, Fushiguro supposed as they advanced. The wide courtyards, the long hallways, the small rivers, the fancy gardens, and the impressive number of buildings all made Jujutsu Tech look infinite and regal, and Fushiguro noted everything looked prettier today. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt as though it was all bathed in a soft, pink glow. Maybe it was the morning’s warm light, or maybe it was how Itadori’s constant stream of sentences oddly soothed him, and he thought it seemed like he was made to live here in this rosy gleam.
“We’re here.” Fushiguro remarked as they stopped in front of a big, ornate door. He pushed it open wordlessly, and heard Itadori gasp behind him.
“This is amazing!” Itadori said, excitedly walking into the kitchen. “It's so nice and big! Oh! There are so many things to cook in, too! I’ve never seen such a cool kitchen!”
“Do you like cooking a lot?” Fushiguro said, amused at the other’s excitement. He silently pulled out a chair from the counter and sat down, watching as Itadori bounced from corner to corner.
“Oh!” Itadori said, turning back to look at him. “Kind of? I started doing it out of a need to eat something besides dollar store ramen, heh. I’m not very picky about food at all, it just seemed like a useful skill to have. My grandpa basically raised me by himself, and he always liked when I put effort into things that I’m good at, like Track and Field. Cooking was one of those! At least I’m not naturally bad at it.”
Fushiguro hummed in response yet again, feeling intrigued. His curiosity was piqued, but his sleep-addled brain could do little to keep the conversation going. His eyes grew heavy as he watched Itadori cook, the muted sounds of the kitchen lulling him.
He realized too late that he had fallen asleep, as he was suddenly woken by a finger poking his arm. He looked up slowly, only to find Itadori standing in front of him, a steaming bowl in hand.
“Ta-da!” Itadori said, smiling at him. “Breakfast is served!”
In front of him was a bowl filled to the top with what Fushiguro thought was rice. Poking it with his chopsticks, he realized it was fried rice, served with some vegetables and an egg. He tried it, and was pleasantly surprised by how good it tased. He looked up at Itadori, who had discarded his apron and was now sitting next to him, eating from his own bowl. He noticed Fushiguro looking at him and looked up, beaming.
“Do you like it?” Itadori said, happy. “It’s one of the easiest things you can make, and it’s quite tasty too!”
“I do.” Fushiguro said, continuing to eat. “I haven’t had breakfast like this in a long time.”
Itadori looked up at him, his expression contemplative.
“I could teach you, you know?” He said.
“Teach me?” Fushiguro asked, looking up from his food. “Teach me what?”
“How to cook!” Itadori replied. “It’s a useful life skill after all, you never know when you may need it!”
Fushiguro considered his options. He was heavily tempted to say no, just because it meant interacting with Itadori way more often, but he backtracked almost immediately. His company hadn’t been tiring at all today, and Fushiguro could even say he had enjoyed himself.
Besides, it really had been a long time since he’d had breakfast as delicious as the one he was devouring right now. He made his mind up quickly enough.
“Sure.” Fushiguro said. “I’d like that.”
“Awesome!” Itadori replied. “I’ll show you all sorts of stuff! That way you won’t have to live off of protein bars anymore!”
How does he know that?
Fushiguro realized, as Itadori kept talking, that he had never complained about his protein bar intake. Nevertheless, a conversation from yesterday popped into his head. He remembered he’d said something about it while talking to Kugisaki and Itadori yesterday; Kugisaki had asked them what their favorite breakfast food was and Fushiguro honestly answered that he hadn’t had breakfast in years.
As he watched Itadori talk, Fushiguro noticed warmth spreading through his chest. He thought, embarrassed, that he felt comforted by the thought that Itadori was paying so much attention to him last night to actually remember that.
He couldn’t remember the last time somebody had been that kind to him.
True to his word, Fushiguro and Itadori met every Sunday and Itadori started to teach Fushiguro how to cook as many things as he could. He became used to the comforting sound of Itadori’s knocks on his door every week, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how easily Itadori had made himself a home in Fushiguro’s routine.
The first Sunday he woke up without Itadori’s knocks on his door, it was raining. It had been raining all week, both outside and in Fushiguro’s mind. His sleep was plagued with nightmares of Itadori’s lifeless body falling in front of him, the rain pounding in his ears alongside his heartbeat. Sukuna’s eyes stared through him time and time again, taunting him.
“Why did you run back then?”
He was going to save Itadori. He was going to defeat Sukuna and get back to Itadori’s heart before he died.
“What a waste of talent.”
Fushiguro’s talent wasn’t his to waste. He was going to save people, help others as much as he could. He wasn’t going to give up just because Sukuna thought he was wasting his talent.
“Show me, Fushiguro Megumi!”
And Fushiguro had been ready. He’d gathered up all of his remaining cursed energy. He was determined to make it out of this alive with Itadori, or die trying. He remembered the hope he’d felt as he watched Sukuna’s marks fade from Itadori’s face. The shock as he watched blood pour from Itadori’s chest, realizing he wouldn’t make it in time.
“Live a long life.”
Yet as Itadori’s body fell to the floor, Fushiguro could do nothing but stare. He had told the truth. His reasons for saving Itadori when they had first met were selfish. His actions had been rash, emotional, and unplanned, and he was paying the price. As he fell to his knees, exhaustion setting deep in his bones, he heard a distant sound.
It took him too long to realize the sound was his own choked sobs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. He touched Itadori’s wrist, reaching for a semblance of the strong sound he’d come to relate to Itadori’s heartbeat, but found nothing.
He was still kneeling next to Itadori’s body when Ichiji found them. He was no longer crying, all his energy spent. The next days felt like a blur, and Fushiguro realized this was how he had been living before. His days blending together, no comfortable light to shine its way through the cracks in the walls Fushiguro had put up. He woke up, trained, ate, had nightmares, and woke up again. His days faded into grey, and each Sunday felt like a stab to his gut at the absence of Itadori’s rhythmic knocks on his door.
On Saturday night the next week, desperate, he had walked to the kitchen. Jujutsu Tech looked lonely at night, the absence of sunlight making even more evident how much Fushiguro had depended on Itadori’s glow. As he opened the doors to the kitchen, he realized how big it looked when he stood here on his own.
“Live a long life.”
Stupid Itadori. He’d taken too many things for granted.
Sighing, Fushiguro reached inside one of the drawers and started pulling out what he needed. Itadori’s bright voice rang through his head, listing off the ingredients he needed. He silently took out an apron and tied its knot.
“Alright, so today I’ll teach you how to make meatballs!” Itadori said to him, knotting his apron. “They’re really easy to make! Even you will be able to do them, heh.”
Fushiguro mustered an annoyed expression, but he felt the familiar warmth he associated with Itadori’s smile spread through his body. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, catching the apron Itadori threw at him. He swiftly tied the knot and turned to the other, watching him silently.
“These are really good when you pair them with any type of vegetables, so we’ll make those too!” Itadori added, beaming up at him. “Here’s what you’ll need…”
Fushiguro mentally crossed off the ingredients as Itadori recited them in his mind, taking things out of the fridge and the pantry. It felt familiar, and oddly mechanical. He usually took out the ingredients while Itadori listed them off, as he turned the stove on and checked that they had everything.
“How did you learn to make these?” Fushiguro asked as he calmly cut the cilantro, watching Itadori mix the ground meat with the other ingredients.
“Hmm…” Itadori said, his expression turning pensive. “My grandpa actually taught me these! He said they were easy to make, and more tasteful than you’d think!”
Fushiguro hummed, silently returning to his duty. They fell into an easy rhythm, cooking slowly but surely.
This is less fun when you do it alone , Fushiguro silently thought to himself. Still, he replayed the memory as he continued the recipe’s steps. It was only when he put all the meatballs in the oven that he realized he’d made too many, and would not be able to eat them all himself. He pulled off his cooking gloves and took out his phone. A picture of him, Itadori, and Kugisaki greeted him, and he remembered how Itadori had insisted he set it as his phone background. He unlocked his phone and opened his chat with Kugisaki.
(7:37PM) have you eaten?
(7:38PM) I’m flattered, Fushiguro, but I’ve no desire to date you
Fushiguro rolled his eyes at Kugisaki’s response, shaking his head.
(7:39PM) not like that
(7:39PM) i cooked and accidentally made too much
(7:40PM) You cook?!
(7:41PM) I would never turn down free food hehe
(7:41PM) i’m aware
(7:42PM) i think there’s enough for maki, inumaki, and panda
(7:42PM) come to the kitchen in half an hour
(7:43PM) You got it
(7:44PM) Thank you Fushiguro!! (＠＾◡＾)
Fushiguro sighed and leaned back against the counter, watching the meatballs slowly get cooked. He stared for a few minutes before deciding to finish everything while they did. Itadori’s voice rang in his mind, reminding him not to cut himself while chopping the green onions, to check the mushrooms and make sure they were in good condition, to put some chopped greens to the dish.
“Why do we need those?” Fushiguro had said, frowning down at the plate.
“It’s part of the presentation!” Itadori replied, as though it was obvious. “Makes everything look much nicer…”
Fushiguro silently smiled to himself as he saw Itadori get lost in concentration as he set up the bowl, placing the rice on the bottom and everything else they had cooked on top.
He did his best to make it look as close to Itadori’s as he could, but couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing. He set up the table just in case, straightening himself up when Kugisaki strolled into the kitchen with the second-years behind her.
They all sat down, and after giving thanks, started eating.
“These are really good!” Maki said, chewing happily. “How did you get your hands on these?”
“I cooked them.” Fushiguro said, looking up at her.
“Salmon.” Inumaki said, chewing thoughtfully. Fushiguro saw him take another meatball and reach under the table, giving it to Panda, who was laying across his lap.
“I didn’t know you could cook for yourself.” Maki said.
“Me neither.” Kugisaki added, looking at him thoughtfully.
“I don’t, really…” Fushiguro said, honesty in his voice. “Itadori taught me how to make them.”
“Oh…” Nobara said, and Fushiguro thought he saw something wet in her eyes, but he turned away. “Itadori’s legacy, I guess…”
Fushiguro hummed absentmindedly, trying not to think too much about him. Itadori had taken over his mind and soul, his grey world reminding him of what he had lost.
Afterwards, when everyone had left, Fushiguro walked alone to his room. He felt his feet drag in anticipation of yet another long night of tossing and turning, and watching Itadori die again and again.
“Live a long life.”
He wished it was as easy as Itadori had implied it was.
As he had predicted, he tossed and turned all night. At one point he got up from his bed and walked to the window. It was raining again, he realized. Silently, he summoned his demon dogs, and they wrapped around him. The familiar scent calmed him down as he watched the rain fall, silent and mourning.
The next day, he woke up to a rhythmic knocking on his door. At first he thought it was a dream, until the knock repeated itself, more insistent this time. Fushiguro silently wondered who on earth would bother him on a Sunday morning. It all felt too awfully familiar.
Getting up, Fushiguro ran through his options in his mind. Could it be Kugisaki, coming to thank him for yesterday’s meal? Maybe Okkotsu was back, and he had come by to say hello. Worst case scenario, Goujo-sensei had planned some last-minute training and wanted him to join him. Sighing, he opened the door, only to topple to the ground.
His whole body froze, his heart stopping in his chest. He felt his heart wake, as though it had been asleep this whole time. He felt it break all over again as deja-vu turned his world upside down, felt it pulse as though it was going to beat out of his chest.
Slowly, almost fearfully, he looked up to the person sitting in front of him.
It was him.
It was actually him.
Itadori Yuuji seemed nervous, almost sheepish. Fushiguro duly noticed that he was talking, saying something, but none of the words registered in his mind. Impulsively, he reached for Itadori’s wrist, wrapping his fingers around him and pulling it close. Itadori stopped talking, looking up at Fushiguro in shock. Silently, Fushiguro pressed his fingers to Itadori’s pulse point.
He needed to check.
If this was a nightmare, it was the cruelest one his brain had dreamt up so far.
Yet as he touched his fingers to Itadori’s wrist, Fushiguro felt it. He heard it, pumping through his own veins as though it was his own.
Itadori’s heartbeat. Itadori’s alive, wonderfully loud, heartbeat. It was too good to be true.
He looked up at the boy sitting in front of him. His expression was open: a mix of happiness, nervousness, and confusion. Still, as Fushiguro looked up at him, the other offered him a smile. That lopsided, lazy smile, blinding and comforting at the same time. He looked at Itadori’s pink cheeks, his bright hair, his shining eyes.
He glowed pink in the morning, he glowed pink in the night, he blossomed and struck Fushiguro’s barriers down. All at once, Fushiguro felt himself break. For the second time that morning, he felt his heart break all over again, and couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled silently down his face.
He watched as Itadori’s expression changed, suddenly growing alarmed and worried at Fushiguro’s blatant display of emotion. He realized Itadori had never seen him cry, but couldn’t bear to care at all.
“You…” Fushiguro choked out. “You’re… You’re alive?”
“I am.” Itadori said, smiling at him again. “I really am.”
As if to prove his point, he pressed Fushiguro’s fingers back to his wrist, and Fushiguro felt Itadori’s heart thrum beneath his fingertips. It was real. Itadori had come back to him, somehow.
“I made the meatballs.” Fushiguro blurted out before thinking. He was about to regret it when he saw Itadori’s face light up, followed by a small chuckle.
“I’m glad you did.” Itadori said, beaming.
“How…” Fushiguro started, before shaking his head. His brain could barely process what was happening in front of him, much less how it had happened.
Itadori looked at him, understanding, and Fushiguro vowed to never take this for granted again.
“I can tell you over a recipe, if you’d like?” Itadori said, nudging at Fushiguro’s stomach. As if it had heard him, his stomach growled hungrily, and Fushiguro ducked his head in embarrassment. He watched, amazed, as Itadori laughed.
“Yeah…” Fushiguro said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Itadori stood up, stretching his hand back down to offer it to Fushiguro. He grabbed it and pulled himself up, but lingered. Carefully, he turned Itadori’s palm up, and reached to press his fingers against his wrist again. Alive. Alive and here, alive and okay, alive and with him .
He thought of all the things he’d gone through in these months. He thought of his endless nightmares, of all the thunderstorms he’d been unable to sleep through, of his grey world and his grey soul and how it all seemed to fade as Itadori glowed pink in his room.
“Live a long life.”
Stupid. How am I supposed to do that without you?
He looked up at Itadori’s face, and he was hit with a realization that should’ve come to him before. He could stare at him all day long, and not get tired. He could press his fingers against his wrist, could cook with him all day, could sit and hear him talk for hours, and not get tired. He searched his mind for the word for this, staring intently at Itadori’s eyes.
Itadori, meanwhile, looked at him patiently. He’d gotten used to how Fushiguro would think things a lot before saying them, how he would turn the sentences over in his head before settling on the one he thought most adequate. As he looked at Itadori, though, Fushiguro could find no words to express how he was feeling. He turned several over in his head, but they all seemed to fall short in comparison to what he had felt when his fingers had pressed against Itadori’s wrist.
“Are you alright?” Itadori said, looking at him.
“Why did it take you so long?” Fushiguro blurted out, impulsive and out of character.
Itadori didn’t look taken back. Rather, he looked as though this had been the question he was dreading, the one that he was sure would come.
“I wanted to be strong.” Itadori replied, expression intense. “Strong enough so that you wouldn’t have to do what you did again. Strong enough to stop Sukuna next time. And to protect you.”
“Protect… me?” Fushiguro asked, confused.
“Well, yeah…” Itadori said, smiling at him yet again. God, he had missed that smile. “I don’t want you to be in danger because of me. I want to be strong enough so that you will be able to live peacefully.”
“Live a long life.” Itadori’s voice echoed in his mind.
“Live a long life.” Fushiguro said. “That’s what you told me.”
Itadori seemed uncharacteristically sheepish now, but he nodded.
“Stupid.” Fushiguro said.
“I know I-“ Itadori started.
“Stupid.” Fushiguro cut in before he could finish. “How am I supposed to live a long life without you?”
Itadori’s eyes widened suddenly, looking at Fushiguro as though he saw him as a new person. As though they were meeting for the first time again.
Itadori stepped forward into Fushiguro’s personal space, but Fushiguro didn’t budge. He still held Itadori’s wrist in his hand, and he felt the pulse speed up. Was it his? Or was it Itadori’s? Their hearts beat in unison, louder and louder, as Fushiguro looked into Itadori’s eyes.
Suddenly, something in them softened, and he felt himself being pulled in. Their lips met, and Fushiguro’s entire body glowed pink, as he felt that familiar warmth he’d lost these months come back all at once. Except this time it burned, but it burned in the best way. And for the third and last time that morning, he felt his heart break and rebuild itself, picking up the pieces he’d lost these months.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
His lips burned, his jaw burned where Itadori’s hand gently held his face, and he thought that it was the most beautiful sensation he had ever felt.
As they broke apart, Fushiguro rested his forehead on Itadori’s, looking at him directly. Itadori’s eyes were bright, and they shone under the morning light. His grin was as wide as Fushiguro had ever seen it, his cheeks the brightest shade of pink. From their proximity, Fushiguro felt how warm Itadori was.
Warm, and alive. Staring at him, and alive. Next to him, and alive.
“I know I just kissed you but…” Fushiguro said. “I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”
Itadori chuckled, blushing harder and pressing their lips together momentarily.
And again, and again, and again.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this, he thought. It seemed evident now, how he could never get tired of Itadori’s presence in his world. Absentmindedly, he heard the pitter-patter of light rain falling, and he realized that he was happy. His world was no longer grey, and rain was no longer a reminder of Itadori’s loss.
And with every drop of rain, they glowed pink in his room. Like a summer shower, he felt himself breathe again, felt himself feel alive again.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
And he realized, happily, that he would do it all again. He would save Itadori, and would put himself in harm’s way recklessly, if it meant that at the end of the day, they could glow pink in the night in his room like this.
“Live a long life.”
As long as it’s with you.