Chapter Text
“When you shake his hand,” Todo starts as he grabs hold of Yuuji’s hand, taking the phrase direct eye contact a little too far. “You must hold on for five seconds - at least! - and, on the last downward shake, make passionate love to your partner’s eyes, like so.”
Todo Aoi is, without a shadow of a doubt, a certified genius. He has single-handedly crafted a foolproof, one hundred percent guaranteed, three-step plan to get your crush to like you back within thirty days or less - and he is passing down this sacred knowledge to Yuuji. For free.
Fushiguro won’t stand a chance against charm of this caliber.
Normally, Yuuji tries to avoid Todo whenever he has missions in Tokyo, but this time he came prepared. He had sent Yuuji a slightly ominous email the day before his arrival that piqued his interest:
Fushiguro Megumi is a blind fool. Follow me and we can open his eyes to the truth. Together, brother, we shall be the light in his darkness!
At first, Yuuji thought that Todo wanted to coerce Fushiguro to join a cult, which would have made for an interesting Tuesday afternoon. But then Kugisaki, disappointed by what she saw, pointed out the “obvious” subtext.
“It kind of implies that you, yourself, are also in a cult, which-” She froze and looked at him like he’d just slapped her in the face. “You didn’t join a cult without telling me, did you?”
“Wh-what? No!” Yuuji had never before felt this much panic and doubt over a thing he was pretty sure he didn’t do. “At least, I don’t think I joined one? If I did, I would have told you! Promise!”
“Good,” she said, shoulders relaxing. “You’d better not go joining cults without me.” She looked back at the email on Yuuji’s phone. “Though I’m still a little pissed that he left me out of this. Doesn’t he know you have two teammates?”
This was a trap, Yuuji was sure of it. If he said yes, Todo knew, then that meant that Kugisaki was being left out deliberately. If he said no, then that would mean that Todo forgot her existence entirely. And it wasn’t as if Todo was here to explain himself, so Yuuji was the closest representative.
Think, think, think! Come on, brain!
Somewhere deep inside, Yuuji could feel the shadow of a laugh.
“Uhh,” he started, unsure of where to go, so he took his phone back from her and reread the line a few times in his head. “He, uh…”
And then it hit him.
“Well, of course he didn’t include you.”
“Huh?!”
He shoved the screen in her face triumphantly. “It says here that Fushiguro is a fool. Last I checked, you’re no fool! You don’t need to be shown the truth!”
He gulped, sweat forming around his brow, and studied her face carefully. He didn’t think there were any holes in his response, but he had never been the best at… well… thinking.
Kugisaki chewed over his response in her head, obvious by how she bit down on her bottom lip and squinted at Yuuji’s face. Searching for lies, no doubt.
“I suppose,” she finally landed on, righting herself to focus back on the email. “But then what could this possibly mean? What’s Fushiguro blind to? If-” Her words skidded to a stop, eyes wide. She looked back into his face, grinning, and he could swear that she saw straight through him. “Hm. Yeah, You should definitely meet with Todo. Yup, yup, I think it’s for the best!”
Which is how he ended up here, shaking Todo's hand and making passionate love to his unblinking eyes.
“Brother,” Todo says a little too sensually. “This is only the first step of the plan, but it is the most important.”
“I see…so does that mean-”
“However!” Todo holds his other hand up in front of Yuuji’s face, handshake still withstanding. “That does not mean that the other two steps are not equally as important.”
“But you just said that step one is the most-”
“If they are all equally important, then they are all the most important. Would I ever lie to you, my brother?”
“I don’t think-”
“Of course not! After all, we’ve been best friends since middle school.” Ah, this again. “We’ve never looked in the face of defeat in all our years of friendship.”
Yuuji breaks up the handshake between them and starts rubbing circles in his wrist where the blood stopped circulating. “So, what’s step two?”
“It’s by far the most important step.” Todo moves across the courtyard of the Tokyo school and sits down on the bleachers. Yuuji follows, ten feet behind. “You must - and I cannot stress this enough - buy merchandise!”
Yuuji’s not the sharpest crayon in the box, he’s well aware of that, most people are, but even he is smart enough to see where this is going. “Is this how you plan to marry Takada-chan?”
Todo does a few melodramatic arm movements that Yuuji can’t quite decipher and then covers his face with his arms. “This isn’t about me.”
Isn’t it, though?
“This is about Fushiguro Megumi and you, my brother. Please do not be confused.”
Yuuji sighs, digging his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Fushiguro doesn’t have any merchandise, though. What am I supposed to do? Make t-shirts with his face on them?”
Todo chuckles, low and semi-omniscient, and lays a heavy hand on Yuuji's shoulder. "'Merchandise' is a loose term, brother. Takada-chan's situation may induce a specific definition, but, in reality, this step is all about imitation."
"What do you-?"
"Imagine, if you will: you meet someone who likes all the things you like - clothes, food, cologne, coffee, deodorant, et cetera. Wouldn't you think, oh!" Todo raises his voice to vaguely resemble a woman with collapsed lungs, or maybe a very sick child. "This person and I like all the same things! We must be soulmates!"
Yuuji thinks about it critically for a moment. It’s true that he and Fushiguro don’t necessarily have that much in common - though, to be fair, a large portion of that is because Fushiguro doesn’t divulge in his personal life too often. If he were to start “buying his merchandise,” so to speak, then it would be clear to Fushiguro that Yuuji is both observational and taking an interest in the things he likes. Plus, strong relationships almost always have a foundation of common interests. The fact that Todo thought all of this through… it’s incredible. "Todo, I think you might actually be smarter than a genius."
Todo’s face instantaneously brightens, like that sun-baby thing from The Teletubbies, only less family-friendly . “My I.Q. is unparalleled, it’s natural for you to mistake intelligence for fanaticism."
“So,” Yuuji starts, his excitement bubbling. “What’s the third step? Tell me!”
“Heh. We haven’t even fully discussed step two and already you want to move on to the next? Fushiguro Megumi is a lucky man.” Todo crosses his arms and stands with his back straight. “Step number three is, without question, the most important of the three.”
Yuuji gets down on one knee and lowers his head. “I’m ready, sensei.”
“The third and most important step also happens to be the simplest. However! It is also the most complex! That being: compliments!”
Yuuji looks up at Todo, the sun shining from behind so he looks more like a shadow than a man. “Huh?”
“I am of course referring to the art of flattery - sounds easy, right? Wrong! Do not be fooled! They can’t be just any compliments - they have to follow a certain set of rules!”
“Which are?” Yuuji isn’t sure if his brain can keep up with all this contradicting information, but he’s willing to do his homework here. For Fushiguro’s sake.
“First, you cannot compliment their appearance more than once - it’s okay to note your beloved’s beauty, but you must not focus on only that. In fact, I would argue that that should be at the bottom of the list! Compliment them on who they are, not what they look like!”
That… is actually some solid advice. He’s pretty sure Inumaki-senpai told him something similar once, way back, when he first tried getting Fushiguro to notice him as more than a friend. “Okay, I hear you. What else?”
“Second,” he continues, holding up two fingers, “you must not bombard your love with more than two compliments in a row. Once is sweet, twice is flattering, thrice is creepy.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “In fact, when it comes to Fushiguro Megumi, I might keep it to one compliment at a time. He strikes me as the type to deflect verbal affection.”
How is Todo so right about so many things? Also, why does he keep referring to Fushiguro by his full name? “Hm, he is that type. He got all weird when I taught him how to make meatballs - he said his needed more flavor, more shape, more everything. I thought they were really good, but he never believed me.”
Todo snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Exactly. I knew it.” He smacks his hand down on Yuuji’s shoulder and pulls him to his feet. “The final rule is, and I cannot stress this point enough, you must not force a compliment. It has to be natural, from the heart. Anything disingenuous will ruin your chances.”
Yuuji gives his mentor an oooh and an ahhh before demanding practical training. “If I’m going to do this, I need to practice. You’re the only one who can help me…brother.”
He’s pretty sure that Todo is having an orgasm, so Yuuji gives him some privacy and begins shouting compliments into the wind. “You smell nice! I like spending time with you!! The sound of your voice is relaxing!!!”
“Utterly beautiful,” Todo says as he comes down from his hopefully metaphorical high, tears running down his face and pooling in the dips and crevices along his collarbones. “You’ve only just begun tapping into your potential.”
“I need to keep training if I’m going to woo Fushiguro into going on a date with me. I hope you’re not in a rush to get back to Kyoto because we have some serious work to do.”
Arguably, Todo has never looked happier. He has Yuuji committing steps one through three, along with the three rules for compliments, to memory for the better part of an hour. After that, Yuuji practices compliments, testing out which words sound the best in which order, then he works out how much force he should apply to his handshakes. Should a compliment and a handshake happen simultaneously?
“Only those with true skill can pull off such a feat. For now, keep them separate,” Todo warns, his voice taking a darker tone.
Yuuji nods, cramming the advice into his brain in the same way he stuffs his overflowing waste bin with more trash. “Understood.”
By the end of the night, long past curfew, both he and Todo believe that the time has come. He’s finally ready.
Fushiguro won’t know what hit him.
~
Something weird is going on and Megumi is not "just imagining things," as Kugisaki so adamantly believes.
Megumi is a thinker. Not in that he’s particularly good at thinking, far from it, but rather that he thinks too much. It’s a blessing and a curse that he’s, ironically, never been able to wrap his head around.
So, when Itadori suddenly starts buying all of the same brands that Megumi owns, his brain goes into overdrive.
It started small, to the point that Megumi didn't even realize what was happening until they were in too deep:
First, Itadori asked him what brand of cologne he wears. "I like that scent," he said, but averted his eyes. Maybe Megumi should have turned the air conditioner on in his room because Itadori’s cheeks were… pink? It wasn’t that hot out, though.
Weird, but Megumi thought nothing of it. "Gojo-sensei gave it to me for Christmas last year. It's some Armani scent, I think." He'd fished through his drawers to come up with the cologne box. "Here. You can take it."
Itadori grabbed the box in his hand and held on for a few seconds, holding Megumi's gaze with a look that said, I'm constipated and proud.
"Cool!" Itadori finally said, snatching up the box and backing out of Megumi's room. "Thanks for this! Now I can… umm…” He seemed to be searching for five-syllable words, only to arrive on, “…Smell nice. Mm, yeah. Like you."
He left, and Megumi only spared the interaction a few dozen minutes of thought.
That was last week, the first of Itadori asking him about what brand named products he buys. Cologne was one thing, reasonable, but then it was frivolous things like hair products, chapstick, cereal, music CDs, movies, and, for the love of God, toothpaste. Even Zenin-senpai thought the whole thing was strange when he brought it up to her. She promised she would get Kugisaki to look into the matter, but hasn’t brought it up since.
Now, as of a few days ago, Itadori is fixated on Megumi’s clothes, which is making matters even more suspicious.
“Oi! Fushiguro! Kugisaki!”
Megumi and Kugisaki are standing around by Gojo-sensei’s office, waiting for the other members of their team to show up when they hear Itadori calling from down the hall. When he turns and looks, something akin to a software malfunction occurs in Megumi’s brain. On the other hand, Kugisaki finds the whole ordeal hilarious.
“Pffft! What are-! Who-?! Where did you-?” Kugisaki cuts herself off with her own laughter, clutching at her midsection and letting out strained gasps of air. Finally, pointing at Itadoti’s feet, she yells: “SHOES!”
Something is definitely up.
Itadori is wearing Megumi’s boots, brown and faded and old. And it’s not like he stole Megumi’s pair, no. He somehow managed to find an identical pair of boots - the ones Megumi’s elderly neighbor had gifted to him two years prior. The my-husband-wore-these-once-fifty-years-ago-and-they’re-still-in-great-shape- Megumi-chan!-They’d-look-splendid-on-you boots.
“H-how…?”
“Yo!” When Itadori reaches them, he waves a hand and claps it down on Megumi’s shoulder. “You’ve always been stylish, Fushiguro!”
When he doesn’t elaborate further, Kugisaki takes it upon herself to verbally rip them both apart. “What does that even mean? No, he’s not! Are you blind? Fushiguro dresses like he just stepped out of a 1950s film noir!”
That last part was both unnecessary and a little mean, but Megumi can’t help but agree with her initial point. What does that have to do with anything? How did he locate an identical pair of boots that were originally made half a century ago?
Itadori smiles and tilts his head to the side. “Eh? Sure he is! He always dresses well!”
Kugisaki’s burst of laughter does not help the situation, it only serves to confuse Itadori more. Meanwhile, there’s a thousand thoughts running through Megumi’s head, only two of which he can actually envision himself saying, but his throat is dry from the awkwardness of it all, so he stays quiet.
“You’re not being fair, Kugisaki!”
“Trust me, you’re the one not being fair,” she responds, her words choppy through her giggles. “You’re being cruel and you don’t even realize it.”
What. The fuck?
What is that supposed to mean?
There’s a headache looming over the edge of Megumi’s temples, a hundred new thoughts spawning at once and all of them fighting for center stage.
Is Itadori… making fun of him? Is this some sort of prank that just went over Megumi’s head?
No. Itadori wouldn’t do that, he’s not the type. At least, he doesn’t seem like the type.
But he did lie about being dead. Does that incident qualify as a prank? Could it be that Itadori has a bad sense of humor?
Surely, Gojo-sensei is involved somehow. Megumi can feel it in his bones.
But why does Kugisaki seem to understand this situation? Does she know what’s going on because Itadori told her, or is she connecting the dots herself? Are there even dots to connect, or is she making assumptions without valid reasoning?
There must be dots, some reason in this madness. Kugisaki and Itadori don’t seem to be on the same team right now, given how they’re bickering, so it’s more likely that, whatever dots that exist in this situation, she’s connected them flawlessly.
Megumi is so caught up in his head that he doesn’t notice Itadori standing directly in front of him, waving a hand in his face. He’s wearing the cologne.
“Yo, Fushiguro. Anyone home?”
“You broke him, dumbass.”
“Did not!”
“Did too! Look at him!”
Itadori peers into Megumi’s face, the eye contact alone enough to make him blush. It’s been a while since Itadori has been this close and Megumi worries that his pounding heart will give him away. He pulls his collar farther up his face and turns towards the other end of the hall. “Gojo-sensei’s going to be here any minute,” he says, completely aware that he’s forcing a change in topic. Unfortunately for him, his teammates are the king and queen of Making His Life Worse.
“He’s always late, don’t change the topic,” Kugisaki says and then points to Itadori’s boots. “What do you think of those? Be honest.”
Itadori twirls in place, like he’s modelling the boots on a runway, and looks at him expectantly. There’s a gleam in his eyes that Megumi can’t quite place.
“They’re, um…” he begs for a word to come to him, any word, and then finally, his brain offers him: “…comfortable. Good for exorcising curses.”
If Mai could manifest from the shadows and shoot him in the back of the head, that’d be great.
There’s a noticeable disappointment in Itadori’s face that Megumi doesn’t know what to do with. Should he try to change the subject again? Should he tell him that the boots look good on him? That they look better on him than they do on Megumi? Why is he disappointed? What did Megumi do wrong? Is it possible that he accidentally ruined a joke he was meant to be a part of? Is this a joke at all?
All Megumi knows for sure is that Itadori’s sadness is his sadness, too. The thought both frightens and comforts him in equal measure.
“Itadori, I-”
“Sorry for the wait!” Gojo-sensei rushes out of his office, twirling out into the hall with annoying flexibility, and Megumi completely forgets what he was about to say. “Phone calls with the higher ups, what a drag! Are we ready to go?”
Itadori nods once, looking down at his boots with a frown. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“Eh?” Gojo-sensei says, a sudden interest in Itadori’s footwear. He looks between all three of his students, blindfolded eyes finally landing back on the boots. “Are those… new?”
“It’s nothing,” Itadori says and begins walking ahead of them. He doesn’t wait for them to catch up. “We’re going to be late.”
Gojo-sensei and Kugisaki follow suit, one giving Megumi a curious look, the other offering sympathy.
Itadori is quiet for the majority of their mission, heading straight back to his room afterwards instead of joining the others for dinner.
Megumi doesn’t get any sleep that night. Or the night after that.