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March 20th started out perfectly normal. Normal as it could be for a jujutsu sorcerer (in training). Which is to say, by regular standards, not normal at all.
Well, Megumi considered, it started kind of normal. He woke up with his alarm, got up, and was standing in the bathroom brushing his teeth, half awake, when a tube of toothpaste fell out of the air above him and thwacked him soundly on the head.
“Fuck!” He yelped, then wrinkled his nose in disgust at the spray of foamy toothpaste on the mirror.
Rinsing out his mouth, he picked up the offending tube and studied it. It was just a half-used tube of generic toothpaste, cinnamon-flavored. What kind of psycho uses cinnamon toothpaste? Megumi thought, then shrugged and put the tube on a shelf next to the sink.
He wiped off the mirror and went to one of the shower stalls. After a quick rinse and scrub, he dried off and skittered past Inumaki-senpai in the doorway with a brief murmured greeting.
While he was getting dressed, a soft yellow hoodie fell over his head.
A tube of toothpaste in the bathroom Megumi could brush off, but this? A hoodie? That was very certainly not his? There had to be something going on. Folding the hoodie up and shoving his feet in his slippers, he left his room and walked down to the teachers’ section of the dorms and started banging on Gojo’s door.
With a thump and a sleepy holler, Gojo shuffled to the door, opening it with a big yawn. “Megumi?”
Megumi held the hoodie out. “Is this yours?”
Gojo looked at it closely and shook his head. “Maybe Inumaki’s?”
“Too small. Inumaki-senpai likes his jackets too big.”
Gojo shrugged. “No clue then. Where’d ya get it?”
Megumi sighed, refolding the hoodie. He caught a whiff of laundry detergent, a soft, fresh scent that sat comfortable and warm in his nose. “It fell out of thin air and hit me in the face. Same thing happened with a tube of toothpaste in the bathroom.”
Gojo made a choking sound. “It what?!”
Megumi opened his mouth to explain again when he was promptly smacked in the head with a mostly eaten onigiri. With a disgusted wrinkle of his nose, he bent over to pick it up. “That’s how I got the hoodie.”
Gojo started cackling. “Look at that, ‘Gumi-chan! It must be your soulmate’s birthday!”
Megumi blinked at him. “What?”
Gojo’s cackling grew more grating. “Your soulmate is younger than you! It’s their birthday, since you’re getting everything they’re dropping. You got a clumsy one, dropping three things already.”
Megumi groaned. “I thought I’d escaped that soulmate crap.”
“Too bad, you didn’t. Now go back to bed or whatever you do these days. I’m going back to sleep,” Gojo said, closing his door.
Megumi rolled his eyes and stalked back to his own dorm. Throwing the hoodie at his bed, then throwing away the rice ball, he flopped onto his bed and sighed heavily. A soulmate. Ugh.
Face buried in the sheets, he let out a muffled scream. Ugh.
With a groan, he shoved himself up and snatched the offensive hoodie off his pillow. Begrudgingly, Megumi pulled a hanger out of his closet and hung the stupid yellow hoodie up in the back of his closet.
He unlocked his phone and checked over his mission for the day. Tracking down a Special Grade cursed object should be easy enough. He’d done it before, and this one looked like it hadn’t been moved in the past decade. It was just a matter of trekking over and grabbing it before someone else could get it.
Or so Megumi thought. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to both beat the everloving shit out of and aggressively make out with someone in his entire life.
Itadori Yuuji was that person. Watching him burst through that window - which, first off, how the fuck did he do that?! - and then swallow Ryomen Sukuna’s finger whole was the most terrifying twenty minutes of Megumi’s life. He swore he could feel his soul drop out of his ass when Sukuna took over. He placed the blame for the euphoric rush of relief when Itadori took back control on nerves and adrenaline. He’d known the guy for maybe forty-five minutes. What business did he have being so worried about Itadori Yuuji?
Still.
When Gojo introduced him as a new student, Megumi’s stomach did a flip and his heart fluttered so hard that he paid a visit to Shoko-san, who just laughed him out of her office.
Itadori and Nobara quickly took over his life. They became so ingrained in his routine and life that he begrudgingly resigned himself to their constant in and out of his room and space. He was hardly ever without them, and the only time he spent away from Itadori was when they were sleeping or Itadori was training with Nanami. And the sleeping was questionable at best. Itadori spent one too many nights curled up next to Megumi in his tiny XL twin sized bed.
Still, his life did go on. His missions came in, his alarm went off every morning, and his soulmate still dropped things constantly.
It took three whole months before he put the pieces together, and he didn’t even put them together. Three months of dropped things collected in a box that sat on the floor of his closet. Three months for Nobara to snoop in his closet, see the box, and ask about it.
“It’s just the stuff my soulmate has dropped since their birthday. Since March.”
Nobara made a hum of acknowledgement in the back of her throat as she sat down and started digging through the box. Megumi let out an exasperated sigh from where he was sitting on the bed, and a sarcastic, “Sure, you can go through their stuff.”
“Thanks!” She said cheerfully. Then, “Huh. Did you put-”
Itadori interrupted whatever she was going to say by bursting into the room with his convenience store snack haul. “Gojo-sensei saw me and tried to talk me into going on a mission with him but I said I had to - hey, Nobara, what are you looking at?”
Nobara shoved the box back into the closet. “Nothin’. Just some old clothes ‘Gumi had tucked away ‘cause he’s a sentimental bitch even though he pretends not to be.”
Megumi raised his eyebrows. Why would she not tell him what was in the box? Maybe he’s touchy about soulmate stuff. Whatever. “I’m not sentimental.”
Itadori grinned at him, and Megumi’s heart thumped in his chest. God damn it. “Aw, you keep your baby clothes, Fushiguro?”
“I do not.”
“Then what do you call that box?” Itadori asked, grin turning sharp and teasing.
“A box. Do you call it something different out in the countryside?”
Nobara chucked his pillow at him with her full strength while Itadori spluttered angrily. Megumi’s lips curled up and he chuckled at their antics.
“Megumi laughed!” Nobara shrieked, dropping her second pillow (read: missile).
“Fushiguro laughed!” Itadori yelled back, a grain of rice sticking to his cheek as he took a bite of an onigiri. Cute, Megumi thought furiously.
“Alright, both of you shut up, I’m starting the movie.”
“Boooooo!” Nobara hissed, Itadori nodding along. They both quieted down, though, and focused in on the movie.
About an hour in, Nobara hit pause and scrambled out of the room, screaming “I’m gonna piss myself!” as she bolted down the hall.
Megumi and Itadori sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before Itadori stood up with a pop of his back. “I’m gonna go grab a jacket real quick, I’m kinda cold.”
Megumi waved his hand. “Just take one of mine.”
Itadori grinned. “Sap.”
Megumi scoffed, but didn’t say anything else. Itadori started picking through his closet, flicking through t-shirts and neatly hung slacks. “Oh hey, I didn’t know you- Oh. Oh, this is.” Itadori went very quiet.
“Itadori? You good?” Megumi asked, sitting up, suddenly concerned.
Itadori turned around, a familiar yellow hoodie clutched in his hands. “Where did you get this?” He asked softly, which was almost a religious experience for Megumi. Itadori was never quiet. Never soft. Wow. Concerning.
“My… soulmate dropped it,” he answered just as soft, watching Itadori’s face carefully.
His face flashed through several emotions very quickly, before he very hesitantly said, “ I dropped this on my birthday.”
Megumi sucked in a breath. “Oh. Oh. ”
Itadori nodded. “Yeah. Um. It’s okay if you want to pretend this never happened. I understand. It’s not like I’m your best candidate for a soulmate so-”
Megumi slapped his hands to Itadori’s cheeks, stepping in close. “Yuuji.”
Itadori went bright red. “Y-Yeah?”
“Shut up. If I could’ve picked anyone in the world to be soulmates with, I would’ve picked you.”
Itadori’s eyes searched his face, and whatever he found in Megumi’s expression seemed to relax and soothe him.
“Megumi,” he whispered, and then kissed him, soft and warm, and tasting just slightly of rice and cinnamon, his hands slipping around Megumi’s waist and pulling him even closer until Megumi was breathless and gasping, unable to tell where he began and Itadori ended. It was pure bliss to be clutched safely in Itadori’s arms. Megumi thought, I could live here forever.
They kissed and kissed and kissed with the fateful yellow hoodie wedged between them until Nobara came charging back in and gagged and fake retched dramatically until they pulled apart, and were all choking on laughter, Nobara snorting and wheezing on the floor.
She just waved her hand dismissively with a knowing smirk when Itadori tried to explain, and through whatever weirdo-telethapy the two of them shared, it seemed they came to an understanding, based on how soft their faces went.
Imagine that, Megumi thought. To find your soulmate because of a single yellow hoodie. “Hey wait, this means you use cinnamon-flavored toothpaste, you fucking psychopath,” Megumi said, accusing.
Itadori just grinned his sunshine and rainbows and shit-eating grin. “It’s spicy,” he said, and after a kiss that made Nobara gag again and whack them with a pillow, Megumi agreed.
Spicy.