Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oi, wake up."

Megumi stirred and mumbled, "Mm, five minutes."

He turned away from the window and tried to chase the remnants of sleep for just a few more minutes. He was starting to fall back asleep when the alarm bells in his sluggish morning brain finally started ringing and his eyes flew open. He was supposed to be alone in his room, there was nobody he was supposed to request five more minutes of sleep to.

He hastened up into a sitting position, body on high alert and hands already in position to summon his shikigami.

It turned out he needn’t have bothered.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Fushiguro Toji shot him a bored glance. “Is that any way to talk to your father?"

Now Megumi was a private person, hardly anyone knew the details of his personal life but there was one secret he guarded above all else.

He was being haunted. By the ghosts of his past sure, but also an actual ghost. They were incidentally the same thing.

The spirit of his deceased father.

Toji had first appeared when Megumi's Ten Shadows Technique had manifested itself fully. There had been indistinctly shaped shadows around Megumi since he was a toddler but his Demon Dogs had only materialised when he was nearing eight years of age.

With no regard for the utter shock he was going to give his child, Toji had turned up as a wispy ghost with a contemplative look. “So, you really did inherit it. I mean, I knew but two proper shikigami before the age of ten? You have more potential than I thought.”

He somewhat resembled the vague memories of his father Megumi still possessed—a heavily muscled man with straight black hair, with a cut on the left side of his mouth and an unnerving coldness in his eyes.

Megumi, to his credit, had at least not fainted but he stood frozen on the spot, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the man.

Toji had sighed. “Do you even remember me?”

Megumi had just gaped at him.

“Well, I’m your dad,” he had explained and when Megumi still didn’t respond, he’d rolled his eyes and taken his leave with a, “See you later, kid.”

The thing was Megumi didn’t want to see him later. He wanted to brush away the incident as a hallucination and forget about it forever.

He was not afforded that luxury.

Toji visited him a couple of times every year, mostly during special occasions like his birthday or sometimes when he was visiting Tsumiki at the hospital later in his life. Unsurprisingly, Fushiguro Toji was pretty absent as a ghostly parent too and Megumi had stopped letting it bother him a long time ago. His father didn’t actually impact his life in any way, there was no reason to overthink it. He had been anxious at first about other people seeing Toji but even Gojo, with his freaky Six Eyes, didn’t seem to detect his presence.

So, there it was.

The ghost of his father visited and talked to him sometimes. Big deal. There were more things to worry about in Megumi’s life.

Like the thousand-year-old King of Curses who’d been awakened in a teenage boy’s body. The teenage boy who was also Megumi’s neighbour and begrudging best friend.

It seemed Toji had sniffed out Sukuna’s rebirth from his ghostly plane too, because lately he's been appearing more and more into Megumi’s life, for reasons he still didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he could do anything in his incorporeal form other than give orders and spout bullshit.

Megumi was tired.

Toji squinted at the shounen manga cover stuck to Megumi’s arm. "Were you reading this all night? This is the stuff you’re into? You've changed."

“You don’t know me,” Megumi hissed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can you even read?"

"That's low, kid."

Megumi peeled the manga off his skin and sighed. "It's fun, okay? Kind of. The art is nice."

Toji looked dubious but before he could question him further, there was a series of knocks on the door.

“Fushigurooo!” Itadori called, sounding way too chipper for this early in the morning.

Megumi exhaled, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Come in, Itadori.”

Itadori barged into his room like an overexcited puppy, already dressed in his uniform.

“Huh, you aren’t ready yet?” Itadori blinked. “That’s odd. You’re usually the one dragging me out of bed.”

Megumi mumbled, “I overslept.”

He pointedly refused to look at his father and tried to pretend that he wasn’t there. It was too humiliating.

“Well, your timing is great!” Itadori told him. “Sensei said our mission is cancelled, the second years took care of it on their way back from their mission yesterday. Man, I woke up early for no reason.”

Megumi’s lips curled into a little smile at the childish whine in Itadori’s voice. “You could go back to sleep.”

Itadori pouted. “It’s not the same. I already ate and everything. I made some breakfast for you too, by the way, it might still be hot if you’re lucky—” his eyes snapped to the thin book on Megumi’s pillow and widened. His face split into a huge grin. “Hey! Is that what I think it is?”

Megumi felt the back of his neck heat up. “Y-yeah. I was bored last night and decided to give it a try. Don’t make a big deal about it.”

Itadori ignored him and stumbled on to Megumi’s bed on his knees, invading Megumi’s personal space. He was a barely contained ball of energy. “Did you like it? What did you think? Where did you reach? Did you see it when—no wait, I don’t want to spoil you. Who’s your favourite? Who did you hate? What was your reaction when—”

Itadori excitedly rambled on about his favourite parts of the story, insisting that Megumi describe in detail what he thought of them too.

Megumi couldn’t do anything but indulge him, taking in his fill as he looked at Itadori. The light in his eyes, his bright smile, the cadence of his voice. He felt something in his heart tug delicately.

Well, shit. That was still happening, then.

Suddenly finding it a little hard to breathe with Itadori so close to his face, Megumi put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to an arm’s length.

“Itadori, I just woke up,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Itadori blinked, quieting for a second and then beamed again. “Sure! I’ll heat up your breakfast in the meanwhile!”

Megumi nodded, allowing himself a small smile. “Thanks.”

Itadori affectionately ruffled his hair and bounded out of the room in a flurry of black, pink and red.

Megumi stared after him and let out a sigh.

"So that's why you were reading that drivel.”

Megumi startled. Oh right, he’d almost forgot he had company. He averted his gaze and started making up his bed.

“Megumi?” Toji said after a moment.

“What?”

"You're gay?"

Megumi hurled his pillow at the ghost. "Please fuck off."

Later that day, Megumi was in the middle of putting back all the packets of junk Itadori had picked up at the konbini they were in when he felt a sudden shiver go up his right arm.

Please not again.

A familiar gruff voice drawled, “Wait, keep the Barbeque flavour. It’s good.”

Megumi sent a glance around the aisle to make sure he was alone. Itadori was nowhere in sight, probably somewhere being attracted by every shiny thing that caught his eye or already breaking into the stack of manga he’d bought at the bookstore earlier.

"Oh, it's you again,” Megumi said in a low voice, pointedly keeping the Barbeque flavoured chips back on the shelf simply out of spite.  “Careful, or I'll mistake you for an actual parental figure."

Tiny Toji—as Megumi liked to call the small version of his father who loved to materialise on Megumi’s shoulders and sit there with his legs crossed—ignored his quip and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Megumi supposed that was one habit he’d picked up from him. He was going to try his hardest to break it.

"So, I was just floating around, thinking,” Toji continued.

“You can do that?” Megumi muttered.

“—and I saw your boy by the frozen food. And I was wondering, why's his hair pink?"

Megumi ignored the sudden flutter in his stomach at Itadori being referred to as his boy and mumbled, "He dyes it. I've helped him a few times."

There was a pause and Megumi prayed that his father had decided to grant him mercy and fucked off for the day.

But then: ”Wow, you really are gay."

Megumi clenched his jaw tightly and started walking towards the counter. “So being a piece of shit wasn’t enough, you have to be homophobic too.”

Toji scoffed so loud near Megumi’s ear that he had to turn his head to shoot him a glare.

"Nah, I get it," Toji said with a wistful look and Megumi didn't even want to begin to unpack that. “I met a guy when I was twenty-five, had me infatuated for a week.”

Megumi glanced at him, surprised, and against his better judgement probed further. “And? What happened to him?”

“Oh, I killed him. No set of pretty eyes are worth two million yen.”

Of course. He shouldn’t have asked.

Megumi groaned. "Oh my god, you belong in the darkest pits of hell."

Toji shrugged and gestured around. "I mean, I’m there, aren’t I?"

And Megumi had no choice but to agree with that.

"Why couldn’t have I gotten my mother’s ghost instead of you?” he sighed.

"Oh, her?” Toji said, his voice taking on a softer edge that had Megumi pausing in his steps. “No, she's passed on peacefully.”

Despite everything, it brought a smile to Megumi’s lips.

"You remind me of her actually," he continued and Megumi's heart warmed even more. Maybe his father was capable of being a human being sometimes.

"Although that hair suited her much better, you just look like a sea urchin."

Megumi's heart turned stone cold again. Never mind.

“Thanks,” he muttered, turning a corner when he spotted Itadori’s peach hair by the stationary. “Can you leave? I’m going to get Itadori now.”

“And what are you doing with him that you want me gone?” asked Toji in a bored voice, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Megumi turned red and sputtered, “What are you implying?”

“What are you implying?”

“Fushiii!” Itadori’s voice interrupted as he sprinted up to him.

Megumi cleared his throat and acted like he wasn’t just arguing with the spirit of his dead father. Who was watching them curiously now, as if they were a live entertainment show.

Megumi hated his life sometimes.

“You okay?” Itadori asked, his brown eyes widening a little in concern. “You look flushed. Do you have a fever?”

Before Megumi could answer, Itadori was all up in his space, pushing his fringe back and feeling his forehead with a calloused palm. Megumi felt himself go even redder.

“Hmm, you’re a little warm,” Itadori deduced, forehead scrunching in concentration.

“I’m fine,” Megumi croaked, gently pulling Itadori’s hand off him. He briefly imagined slipping his fingers through Itadori’s instead of letting go but before that thought could fully manifest, he dropped it.

There was no way he was doing it in front of Toji, he didn’t think he could handle being called gay again.

“Well, if you’re sure!” Itadori said brightly. “Anyway, I got you something!”

Upon Megumi's questioning look, he brought his other hand forward and proudly presented Megumi with a…pen.

A dog pen, to be more precise. It looked like a cheap ballpoint pen, just with a white dog bobblehead on the top. Itadori had even drawn a shikigami mark on its forehead with a red marker and Megumi’s chest twisted so painfully, he barely survived it.

It was a tacky, childish piece of stationary that Megumi would never even look at, much less purchase but sitting atop Itadori’s hand, with Itadori’s hopeful gaze on his face, Megumi found himself accepting it gingerly and giving him a soft smile. “Thanks. I really like it.”

Itadori beamed, pleased and Toji snorted somewhere behind Megumi.

Megumi barely suppressed the urge to turn around and try to strangle him.

Fortunately, he disappeared when they stepped out after paying and Megumi thanked the gods above for small mercies because they hadn’t even walked two steps when he felt an additional jacket being draped over him.

He looked sideways at Itadori, startled.

“Just in case you’re coming down with something,” Itadori said with a sheepish smile, donned in only a hoodie now.

Megumi’s throat felt too tight to speak and he just nodded faintly.

Itadori’s jacket around him was warm, uncomfortably so but Megumi found himself clutching to it, inhaling Itadori’s scent until he felt lightheaded with it.

God, Toji was right. He really was fucking gay.

Megumi found himself on his back with Itadori on top of him and he wasn't even happy about it.

He groaned as the gravel dug into his skin and looked up to meet Itadori's guilty expression. He was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as though it was his fault Megumi had been overpowered by him.

"Ah sorry, Fushiguro," he said with a nervous smile, offering him a hand. "Didn't mean to push you so hard."

"It's fine," Megumi mumbled, taking his hand and letting himself be pulled up. "You won, fair and square."

Itadori helped him dust himself off and Megumi felt his skin tingle wherever his touch lingered. His stomach coiled tightly when his eyes met Itadori’s and the other boy offered him a tentative smile.

Megumi took a hasty step back. "I'm just—” he pointed vaguely to his left. “—going to take a little break."

Itadori nodded, looking a little pink himself and busied himself with finding another partner.

"Sloppy, sloppy," Toji commented when Megumi sat himself down on the edge of the field. "You were distracted today."

So, it was noticeable then.

“I know,” he admitted through gritted teeth. “It happens sometimes with Ita—it happens.”

Toji hummed. "Hand-to-hand combat and sparring and cursed tools. So old-fashioned. Have you considered a gun?"

It was a testament to how used to Megumi was getting to his father that he didn’t even bat an eyelid. "No."

"Who's that girl?” Toji asked next, pointing to where Maki-senpai was absolutely destroying Panda-senpai. “She looks like another girl I saw using a gun sometime back. From the other school."

Megumi pursed his lips, swallowing when Itadori smiled and waved at him from afar.

"Could you not talk to me in public?” he said quietly, looking down when Itadori had turned away. “People will think I've gone insane."

Toji snorted. "You're my son, do they not already think that?"

His narcissism rivalled Gojo-sensei’s. It was a wonder Megumi didn’t turn out worse with these men as his sole parental figures.

He picked the easier question to answer. "That's Zenin Maki,” he said finally. “She's like you, I suppose. Wasn't born with cursed energy. She wears those glasses to see curses. You must have seen her twin, Mai."

Toji stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A Zenin, huh? That must've been tough for her."

Megumi gave a small nod, picking at the grass by his feet. "I don't know much but from what I’ve heard, yes."

Toji had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched Maki that Megumi had never seen before. It spoke of regret, familiarity.

It prickled at Megumi for some reason.

"How's she holding up?"

Megumi shrugged. "Well, she hasn't turned into a contract killer yet."

Toji chuckled, stretching his arms. "Better than rotting with the Zenins."

Megumi clenched his fists, keeping his eyes down. "Well,” he said quietly. “You didn't have a problem subjecting me to that fate for a few million yen."

There was a stunned silence and then Toji turned to face him incredulously. "Is that what you think?”

Megumi kept quiet, refusing to look him in the eye.

“No, Megumi,” he continued and Megumi thought he might have felt a hand on his shoulder if his father were corporeal. “I’m not saying I wasn’t looking for personal gain or that what I did was ‘morally’ correct. But it would've been different with your abilities.” He snapped his fingers in front of Megumi’s eyes. “Are you listening to me, kid? You would've been made the clan leader eventually. Better than that punk Naoya."

Megumi didn’t know who that was and he didn’t care. He’d made his peace with his past and wasn’t looking for reassurances or consolation from the person who had sold him. He didn’t care if Toji thought he would’ve thrived in the Zenin household or how valuable he’d judged Megumi’s skills to be—it was all meaningless in the face of the fact that he hadn’t batted an eye before selling his only child to the family he himself had fled from, that he knew was despicable and rotten to the core.

Megumi felt a wisp of a familiar anger stir up in him, white hot and resentful but he tamped it down, digging his nails into his palms. None of it mattered anymore.

“Whatever. It all worked out in the end, no thanks to you,” he settled on and exhaled as a heavy silence fell over them.

He knew Toji was uncomfortable, it was all over the fidget of his fingers, the line of his scarred mouth.

Good, Megumi thought. Let him be uncomfortable.

Finally, Toji cleared his throat, his eyes trained on the students on the ground. "Well, your boy has talent too."

Megumi flushed despite himself, pulling his knees to his chest. "Stop calling him that."

Toji smirked, springing back into element. "So, he's Ryoumen Sukuna's vessel, huh? You've got strange taste."

"That's obviously not why I like him!" Megumi exclaimed indignantly and then realised what he'd said. His eyes widened. "I mean—not that I like—”

“Save it, kid,” Toji snickered. “You’re not fooling anyone. In fact,” he put up a finger and Megumi could see the metaphorical lightbulb over his head. “I’ve decided to help you.”

Megumi raised a bored eyebrow. "With what? You're literally dead."

Toji hummed contemplatively and a drop of dread curled in Megumi’s stomach.

"Please stop thinking. It's scaring me."

"Trust me, son. You won't regret this."

“Regret what?” Megumi hissed a little hysterically. "If this is you trying to make up for being a dick when I was little, I don't want—”

“Megumi~” came Gojo-sensei’s singsong voice and Toji’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes narrowing in irritation.

"Not this brat again,” he growled. “When I mentioned you to him, I didn't mean he should adopt you."

A sadistic part of Megumi considered telling him how much Tsumiki loved Gojo, about the mortifying incident when Megumi had accidentally called him ‘dad’ once, just to rile Toji up. He made a note to mention it next time his father bothered him.

His father, who looked disgusted now, was glaring daggers at Gojo-sensei who’d obliviously hopped up to Megumi and thrown himself on the ground to start talking nonsense, as usual.

Apparently, unable to stomach the obnoxious energy Gojo seemed to be exuding at all times, Toji disappeared in a huff and…fuck no.

Megumi barely suppressed a little scream of frustration as his father disintegrated into thin air without giving out any information on what he intended to ‘help’ Megumi with.

He had a very bad feeling about this.

“Yuuji is getting stronger,” Gojo-sensei commented, snapping Megumi out of his mild panic-induced reverie. “I saw him fighting you.”

Megumi felt his cheeks colour with shame and he hid his face between his arms. “He was always better at hand-to-hand combat.”

Gojo gave him one of his intense looks that communicated everything he wanted even through the blindfold. “No, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Great, more interrogation. Megumi could not catch a damn break.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, sensei,” he said curtly. “I’m trying my best.”

Gojo chuckled, patting Megumi on the back. “You’re smart, Megumi. Think over it.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Stop pretending to be wise.”

“Who’s pretending?” Gojo grinned and heaved himself to his feet, pulling Megumi along with a hand on his collar. “Come on, up up up! You’re not done for the day yet.” He cupped both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Yuuji-kun! Megumi says he wants to train more with you!”

Megumi’s eyes widened as heat rushed to his face. “I’m going to kill you.”

The white-haired man-child cackled as if that was the funniest joke he’d ever heard and physically pushed Megumi towards a rapidly approaching Itadori.

Gojo Satoru was an excellent way to get rid of his father, if only Megumi could tolerate the man himself.

Chapter Text

"Rise and shine, kid.”

It was said in such a monotonous, gruff voice that the entire purpose of the statement was defeated.

Megumi sighed. He didn’t feel like rising, let alone shining.

He shoved his face into the pillow. "Between you and  Gojo-sensei, I don't know who's the worst person to wake up to."

Toji tsked in displeasure. "Don't you ever compare me to that punk."

"Why?” Megumi said, voice muffled. “You both annoy me just the same."

Toji huffed out a laugh. "When are you not annoyed? You wake up looking like you want to give up on life."

Megumi lifted his face to glare at him, affronted. “I do not. That’s just how my face is.”

“Ever heard of a smile?”

“Really? You smile like a psychopath.”

“Better than not smiling at all,” mocked Toji, his psychopathic smile on full display.

Megumi rolled his eyes and got out of bed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t have time for this today—Gojo-sensei was apparently taking them on a ‘fun excursion’.

Kugisaki and Itadori had been ecstatic when their teacher had cheerily announced it the previous day during class. Megumi, knowing what it really meant, hadn’t shared the excitement.

“That Itadori kid,” Toji continued as Megumi went about making his bed. “He has an execution hanging over his head and yet I've never seen a livelier guy.” He scrunched his nose. “It's actually a little disgusting."

Megumi’s jaw clenched. "I'm not like him—”

"But you do like him," Toji pointed out.

Megumi elected to ignore that for the sake of his own sanity.

"Do yourself a favour and at least try to look like you're happy to see him. Tell him his weird hair looks good or something,” Toji told him.

Megumi glanced at him briefly. That was a strange thing to say. 

But then Fushiguro Toji was a strange man and Megumi didn’t want to waste time thinking about why his father behaved the way he did sometimes. That was a surefire way to lose his remaining marbles.

“Be assertive when you make your move,” Toji carried on sagely. “And not in that bossy way of yours either. You gotta make him listen to you but not be put off by your attitude. It’s a fine balance but once you find it, it’s foolproof.”

Megumi paused in his activities and the blanket he was folding slipped from his limp fingers as his father's nonsensical words continued to wash over him. A drop of dread curled in his gut. 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you clearly don’t know how to impress someone,” Toji drawled critically. “Oh, and try calling him by his given name, girls go crazy for that shit.”

Megumi bristled and whirled around to face him. “Itadori is not a girl and why do you care whether I impress him or not?”

Toji blinked, seemingly confused. “Do you not want to?”

“That’s not the point!” Megumi wanted to tear his hair out. “Stay out of it.”

Toji just chuckled, as if Megumi was a particularly amusing baby animal and Megumi would have killed him if he weren’t already dead.

“You’re gonna need all the help you can get, boy,” Toji remarked. “Why don’t you take him out for ice cream or something? That always worked with your mother.”

Megumi didn’t even know what to say to that.

Toji stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, Itadori’s cheerful disposition is a lot like your mother’s. You should note all this down.”

“If you imply for a second,” Megumi warned coldly, “that you and I like the same type of people, I'm gonna find a way to exorcise you—”

“Speaking of exorcisms,” Toji cut him off like the infuriating fucking asshole he was. “Didn’t you mention to the Gojo brat that you exorcised a new shikigami the other day? You should summon it in front of Itadori today.”

Megumi stared at him incredulously. “Are you serious? I’m not going to misuse my technique like that just to show off.”

He pointedly didn’t think of Itadori’s wide-eyed face if he were to witness Megumi summoning Max Elephant—that train of thought was reserved for when he was alone and not keeping down a violent blush.

“I would’ve believed you if you didn’t summon your Divine Dogs every time the boy so much as looks your way with his puppy eyes.” Toji smirked.

This time, Megumi couldn’t stop his face from reddening. He couldn’t believe his father had seen that.

"I thought you couldn’t see my shikigami,” he argued. “You don't have any cursed energy!"

"I didn't when I was human,” Toji pointed out calmly. “I'm not human anymore."

“Whatever,” Megumi gritted out. “None of this is your business anyway. Whatever you’re trying to do, just stop. There’s no way I’m ever taking your advice on anything. Got it?”

Toji simply shrugged, unaffected, and Megumi wanted to wipe that self-assured smile off his face so badly. 

Instead, he stomped to the bathroom, slammed the door shut and hoped nobody heard his scream of agony.

“We’re done,” Megumi announced into the phone he was holding in one hand while the other dusted off the debris lodged in Itadori’s hair.

“He picks up your call but not mine?” Kugisaki seethed, hands on her hips. “He knew I would yell at him for lying to us, didn’t he?”

“Plus Fushiguro’s like his adoptive son or something, Gojo-sensei has to legally pick up his calls,” Itadori added intelligently. “Or he could go to jail.”

“Oh, he’ll wish for jail after I’m done with him for ruining my excursion day outfit,” Kugisaki ground her teeth, a murderous glint in her eyes that had both Megumi and Itadori taking a step back.

Their ‘fun excursion’ predictably, in Megumi’s opinion, turned out to be a mission to exorcise curses. Kugisaki had been over the moon when the car stopped at the mall of all places, but had soon turned furious when Gojo ushered them past all the shiny shops to the highest floor that was under renovation, off-limits for visitors and clearly swarming with low-grade cursed spirits.

Itadori, while disappointed, hadn’t taken it nearly as personally as Kugisaki and even looked a little proud at the end of it.

“First of all.” Megumi ended the call and interrupted before the conversation could derail. “I’m not his adoptive son, can we please not say that anymore?”

“Who are you kidding?” Kugisaki drawled, at the same time as Itadori said, “You totally are, dude.”

“Secondly,” Megumi continued pointedly. “I don’t think the jail thing is true, you need to start fact-checking, Itadori.” Itadori made a little pout and Megumi hurriedly looked away before he could find it cute.

“And lastly, as entertaining as it would be to see Kugisaki kill sensei, he said we have the rest of the day off and he’s agreed to give us free rein of his credit card as apology for tricking us,” Megumi finished, crossing his arms.

Kugisaki’s expression went through a frightening set of changes, going from bloodthirsty to beaming in a span of 0.2 seconds. “Ahh, best sensei ever!” 

“No need to build a shrine for him,” Megumi muttered. “This is another dirty tactic. You know he’s filthy rich, right?”

Itadori gasped, slapping a hand on Megumi’s back. “Really? Your inheritance must be massive then, Fushiguro.”

“I never thought of that,” Kugisaki said. She smiled sweetly and sidled up to Megumi. “Have I told you you’re my best friend in the world, Fushiguro? I would die for you.”

“Hey!” Itadori exclaimed, pointing to himself. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Kugisaki scoffed. “Talk to me when you aren’t—"

“Both of you need to shut up,” Megumi interjected, rubbing his temples tiredly. “Can we leave already?”’

Itadori nodded, but Kugisaki stopped them with a judgemental tsk. “We can’t leave like this, you heathens. People will freak out if they see us torn and bloody, covered in curse gunk. Go clean yourselves up.”

Megumi looked down at himself, Itadori doing the same beside him, and sighed. She was right. They weren’t in any state to be seen by civilians. Itadori’s shirt was slashed at the abdomen, a bloody cut peeking through and his shoes were covered in brown sludge. Megumi’s right sleeve was torn and he could feel a burning sensation on his forehead.

“How did you manage to not get any of that gross stuff on your clothes?” Itadori whined at Kugisaki, to which she grinned wolfishly and answered, “Natural, inborn talent.”

Itadori snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Kugisaki’s face hardened, her mouth opening to make a scathing retort doubtless but before it could escalate, Megumi picked up the first aid kit, grabbed Itadori by the collar and dragged him to the men’s room.

The bathroom, despite being under construction, at least had working faucets and Megumi immediately got started on cleaning and fixing up Itadori’s wound, which thankfully was the worst of their injuries.

"Ouch,” Itadori hissed in pain as Megumi carefully disinfected the cut.

"Stay still,” he scolded lightly. “Don't be a baby."

"It stings," Itadori complained, but didn’t move a muscle. He was leaning against the counter, his uniform shirt lifted up slightly while Megumi bent down to clean it.

"Should've thought of that before laughing at the deadly cursed spirit," Megumi answered, straightening up to dig for gauze and bandages. The cut, while shallow, was long—stretching across the length of the hard panes of Itadori’s stomach. The bandage would have to be wrapped around his entire torso and Megumi’s breath hitched a little when his knuckles skimmed the dip of Itadori’s lower back. 

Itadori didn’t seem to notice it and Megumi quickly tied it and straightened up to wash his hands.

"Come on, it was funny!” Itadori insisted, and Megumi could hear the grin in his voice. "It was literally singing a Lady Gaga song, I’ve never heard anything funnier. Look! Look, even you're laughing!"

Megumi ducked his head into the uniform collar to hide his smile. “Am not.”

"You are, Fushiguro, you liar!” Itadori nudged him, his eyes small slits from how wide his smile was. Megumi felt himself slipping.

Fushiguro. 

He rolled the word around in his mouth, memorising the way it sounded coming from Itadori. Although mostly everyone called him that, it felt different through Itadori's lips. Did Megumi sound half as fond when he addressed the other boy? As though his name was made only for him?

Would his given name sound just as sweet from Itadori’s mouth?

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, his father's unsolicited advice about using Itadori’s given name came unbidden into Megumi’s mind and his heart picked up pace.

He glanced nervously at Itadori, who was futilely trying to cover up the tear in his jacket.

Megumi swallowed.

Maybe...maybe he could try it once, just to see. He was sure Itadori wouldn’t mind. 

But how? Was he smooth enough to just slip it into the conversation? How did Toji do it? Fuck, Megumi should've asked him more.

He cringed at the thought, immediately backtracking. The fact that Megumi was considering his advice in the first place was a miracle, there was no way he was ever asking for more.

Besides, he could do it. It was just Itadori, the human version of a golden retriever. What was the worst that could happen? 

Megumi had just exorcised three curses, calling his friend by his given name didn’t have to be so daunting.

He drew in a breath through his dry lips, and willed his vocal chords to work. “Yu—”

“Oh, Fushiguro!” Itadori turned to him as he caught sight of something on his face. “You're injured too.” He came a little closer, close enough for Megumi to spot the freckles on his nose, and gingerly brushed his thumb under Megumi’s fringe, a concerned frown forming over his mouth.

“Hold on,” Itadori said in an unfairly low voice that had Megumi’s stomach doing a backflip. “Kugisaki has those little bandaids we can put on this. I’ll get them!”

And just like that, Itadori was bounding out of the restroom with a booming call of “Kugisakiiii” and Megumi’s courage seeped out of him like water through the drain.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slumping against the counter.

"Tch, teenagers these days."

Megumi’s head snapped up in alarm. "What the hell?"

Toji was leaning against a stall door. Great, that was just what Megumi needed—a witness to his failure.

“Why don't you just ask him out?” Toji said. “This is getting painful to watch."

"Nobody told you to watch though?" Megumi glowered at him, his blood pressure spiking up. “Have you been standing there like a creep this whole time?”

Toji waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, just came in when the kid ran out and saw you here looking like a kicked puppy. Not hard to figure out what happened.”

Megumi clenched his fists, a flash of irritation tightening his jaw.

Toji rolled his eyes. "Just tell him how you feel, I didn't raise a coward."

"You didn't raise me," Megumi reminded him.

"Let me give you some more tips,” Toji offered and Megumi recoiled instantly.

"Fuck off, you're not teaching me how to flirt,” he snapped. “I'm going to find a way to exorcise you if it's the last thing I do."

Toji raised an obnoxious eyebrow. “You can’t even call your crush by his given name, I’m the least of your problems.”

Megumi huffed and averted his gaze, a little stung despite all efforts at nonchalance. “I refuse to get judged and criticized by a dead guy.”

Toji chuckled. “Deflect all you want but—”

“Here, Fushiguro!” Itadori ran back into the room, with a pink Hello Kitty bandaid clutched in his hand. Megumi nearly groaned out loud.

Toji, as he’d expected from his jerk of a father, started howling with laughter when Itadori applied the bandaid to his forehead. God, Megumi really hated that man sometimes.

Itadori stepped back to survey his handiwork. “Cute,” he breathed.

Megumi blinked, Toji momentarily forgotten. “What?”

Itadori blinked as well, looking startled and met Megumi’s eyes.

Megumi stared back, the silence stretching taut between them.

Finally, Itadori seemed to get his bearings and his shoulders relaxed. The corner of his lips lifted into a gorgeously lopsided smile and he blushed. “I said you look cute, Fushiguro. Hello Kitty suits you.”

Megumi’s heart did a weird thing in his chest but he ignored it in favour of muttering, “Shut up.”

Itadori grinned at him and gestured to the door. “Should we go? Kugisaki will bite our heads off if we make her wait any longer.”

Megumi didn’t know where it came from but suddenly, he was stopping Itadori with a touch to his wrist and saying, “Wait, Yuuji.”

The name felt foreign on his tongue but not unpleasantly so. The syllables came out with a soft edge and Megumi liked how his voice had to curl around them like a gentle embrace.

Itadori was surprised, it was obvious. He took notice of the change instantly, his chestnut eyes widening slightly and Megumi felt a little nudge of pleasure when Itado—Yuuji tripped over his words. “H—huh -? I mean, -ye-yeah? What is it?”

Megumi suppressed a small smile. 

“Here, take this,” he said, moving to remove his jacket and place it in Yuuji’s hands. “Use it to cover the tear in your shirt, your jacket is useless.”

Yuuji gaped at him for a moment, clearing his throat when Megumi raised a questioning eyebrow and nodded, immediately discarding his own torn jacket and putting on Megumi’s.

Megumi didn’t know what to call the feeling that coursed through his body as Yuuji’s strong fingers buttoned it up, completely enveloping himself in a piece of Megumi’s clothing.

It hung slightly lower down Itadori’s waist than it did his own and Megumi’s toes curled involuntarily inside his shoes at the sight.

His cheeks flushed and he busied himself with tightly balling up Itadori’s uniform jacket as they headed towards the door. 

This was madness, he thought. Megumi was mad to have such extreme reactions to absolutely inconsequential details, and by the smirk he saw Toji wearing out of the corner of his eyes, he knew he was done for.

Despite the momentary surge of confidence that had gripped Megumi in the mall, he still felt a lingering sense of nervousness when addressing Yuuji by his given name those first few times, afraid that he might ask Megumi why he was suddenly doing it. Megumi didn’t think he would be able to answer that without giving himself away.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t do anything like that. Instead in a very Yuuji-like way, he quickly latched on to the habit and followed in Megumi’s footsteps—even going a step further and shortening Megumi’s name to just ‘Gumi’.

Unsurprisingly, this wreaked havoc on Megumi’s heart and raised more than a few eyebrows. He glared them all down.

So, all in all, things were going as well as could be hoped.

Megumi was having a quiet, peaceful evening. There was nothing urgent to attend to and he finally had time to get started on the book he’d bought months ago. He settled into his pillows, covered himself up with his most comfortable blanket and allowed himself a small smile of rare contentment.

However, it seemed peace was meant to be disturbed because not even an hour of it and Fushiguro Toji’s ghost decided it was a good time to visit his son.

He hadn’t shown his face since the mall incident and Megumi had been kind of hoping he’d left for good. No such luck.

“Leave,” Megumi said in a deadpan voice as soon as he felt the familiar presence, not even bothering to look up from his book.

“No,” Toji said in response. “I have something to tell you.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Megumi said, huddling deeper into his pillow. “Because I’m not going to listen.”

“Oh, I bet you’re gonna want to listen to this,” Toji proclaimed confidently.

Megumi huffed. “I’ll bet you all my worldly possessions that nothing you could ever say will hold any value or importance for me—”

“Your boy is crying.”

Megumi shot up straight, his book tumbling off his chest onto the floor. “What? Where?”

“God, you’re embarrassing,” Toji commented dryly, shaking his head

Megumi shot him his best warning look. “What do you mean, he’s crying?”

“Calm down, I’m getting to it,” Toji drawled. “Soo Itadori was sitting alone in the common room with the door closed—”

“Sorry, what exactly were you doing there?” Megumi demanded.

Toji looked away shiftily and Megumi’s hand twitched. “Just keeping a look out.”

"Great,” Megumi hissed. “So, you're not just invading my privacy but other people's too and worst thing is that they don't even know it—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Toji interjected, rolling his eyes. “Save it. Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

Megumi ground his teeth in frustration. As much as he loathed to admit it, he did want to know. “Make it quick and get to the point.”

Toji shrugged. “Like I said, he was crying and the TV was on pause. I don’t know what happened, he seems like an idiot. A miserable one, which is good for you. Go comfort him or something.”

Every cell in Megumi’s body rebelled at the idea of listening to Toji but infuriatingly, comforting a crying Yuuji was also something he seemed to be hardwired to do. All his instincts screamed at him to go to him already.

After an excruciating moment of internal conflict, Megumi caved, hurriedly tossing off his blanket and putting on his slippers.

“People usually appreciate hugs, I’ve heard,” Toji supplied wisely. “I wouldn’t know though, so don’t quote me on it.”

“Shut up,” Megumi snapped irritably. “Not now.”

“And don't you dare follow me," he added as a warning, throwing open the door to his room. “If I sense you hovering around for a second, I’ll go live with the Zenins.”

Megumi didn’t know how effective that threat was, if it even was a threat (Toji had after all sold him to the Zenins) but his father simply chuckled, putting up his hands in surrender.

Begrudgingly mollified for the time being, Megumi slammed the door shut and rushed to the common room.

Sure enough, Megumi found Yuuji in the common room, lying face down with his nose shoved into a cushion. The room was dark, the only light source being the television screen and Megumi quietly turned on the little nightlight by the door.

Yuuji jerked up into a sitting position when he heard the sound of the switch and turned to stare at Megumi owlishly.

“Gumi?” he said blearily. “What are you doing here?”

Megumi shrugged, coming to sit beside him on the sofa. “Just checking up on you.”

Now that Yuuji was right in front of him, he could see the way his eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks damp and his face was flushed. 

Megumi’s body gave a visceral reaction at the sight that he had to force down.

Yuuji attempted a watery smile, brushing him off. “Oh, haha, you didn’t have to. I was just… uhh, relaxing.”

Megumi believed in getting straight to the point. 

“Yuuji, you’re crying.”

But perhaps that wasn’t the best way to deal with Itadori Yuuji because as soon as the words were out of Megumi’s mouth, Yuuji’s eyes filled with tears again and started to roll down his face. 

Megumi’s own eyes widened in alarm, while Yuuji roughly wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“God, fuck,” he croaked out. “I didn't mean to cry again. Why’d you have to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry,” Megumi breathed. “What happened? What can I do? You can talk to me.”

Yuuji shook his head, refusing to meet his eyes. “It’s nothing, Megumi. Seriously, you don’t have to worry. Just go to bed.”

Megumi huffed indignantly, almost offended. He shifted closer, grabbing Yuuji’s chin and forcing him to look at Megumi. “You’re stupider than you look if you think I’m leaving you a mess like this.”

“Thanks, you always know just what to say,” Yuuji said dryly, but there wasn’t any heat behind it.

Megumi ignored him. "What happened? Is it Sukuna?"

Yuuji averted his gaze, his lips pursed into silence.

“Is it?” Megumi pressed. He couldn’t imagine what else it could be.

Slowly, Yuuji nodded, looking so heartbroken that Megumi wanted to exorcise the damned King of Curses that very second.

He knew living with Sukuna as a host inside your body wasn’t easy, that Yuuji went through periods of mental anguish that Sukuna delighted in causing. 

However, never had it reduced Yuuji to tears before. This situation must have been especially bad for him to react like this and the thought dropped like a heavy rock into Megumi’s stomach.

“What did that bastard do now?” Megumi demanded.

Yuuji took a shuddering breath and Megumi shifted closer to him. 

"He—he,” Yuuji sniffled. “He—”

“Go on,” Megumi encouraged, taking Yuuji’s hand in his without hesitation and rubbing soothing circles on the back of it.

“He sp-spoiled my favourite character’s death,” Yuuji said, shoulders shaking slightly, a fresh batch of tears gathering in the corners of his honeyed eyes.

Megumi blinked. 

Wait.

What?

“One of my favourite characters just died in this show I’m watching and Sukuna said my other favourite character dies in the next episode too," Yuuji continued, a hint of anger colouring his voice. “What a dick! I can overlook cutting off a few of my limbs in his domain but this is just unforgivable.”

"He—what?"

Megumi gawked at him, trying to wrap his head around what Yuuji was saying. He’d expected something terrible, something torturous—something...not this.

He cleared his throat. “Sukuna… spoiled the death of your favourite character? A fictional character? And that’s why you’re crying?”

Yuuji nodded, clutching Megumi’s hand tighter.

"How does he even know that?" 

"I don't know!" Yuuji wailed miserably. “Isn’t he like, omniscient or something?”

Megumi definitely did not think he was. 

Before he could voice that thought, Sukuna himself appeared to clarify.

"The brat fell asleep yesterday and the next episode autoplayed. I watched it," he said in a bored voice, appearing as a mouth on Yuuji’s right cheek. "I watched the one after that too."

"He won't stop giving me spoilers, Gumi!" Yuuji cried, slapping a hand over his cheek, his lip wobbling dangerously and Megumi couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching at the absurdity of the situation. He was only human.

Yuuji gasped, betrayed. "You're laughing."

Megumi pursed his lips. "I'm not."

"You are, at least don't lie!” Yuuji exclaimed. “I knew I shouldn’t have told anyone.” He sighed. “Look I know it's stupid but…these characters, they kinda reminded me of you and Kugisaki. And I—I got a little attached. It's silly and childish, I know. Ugh, just forget I said anything—"

Megumi's heart melted and he tugged on Yuuji’s hand. "It's not silly."

Yuuji looked down. "You're just saying that."

"No," Megumi insisted. "I’m not. I can’t say I fully relate but I can understand.”

“Sure,” Yuuji exhaled resignedly, still looking dejected and Megumi felt helpless, body tense as he tried to think of what to do next, how to make Yuuji feel better—no matter what the cause of his sadness was.

Hug him, his inner voice that sounded horribly like Toji said. Just do it.

Megumi’s heart leapt into his throat at the thought. Could he?

Hugging a friend might seem like the easiest thing for someone like Yuuji but Megumi—he wasn’t good at this stuff. He didn’t know how to initiate physical contact, how to make it seem natural and not dreadfully awkward.

But this was Yuuji. If there was anyone Megumi was willing to step out of his comfort zone for, it was him.

He moved slowly, trying to muster a level of confidence he didn’t really feel. He shifted infinitesimally, his hand going to Yuuji’s waist and then curling around his back to pull him closer. The hand that was holding Yuuji’s tugged on it for added support and then before he knew it, both his arms were wrapped around Yuuji and there was a pink head resting on his shoulder.

Megumi could barely breathe.

"Is this okay?" he whispered against soft hair.

He felt Yuuji nod, his arms tightening around Megumi.

“You know,” Megumi murmured after a minute. “I think it’s incredible how vulnerable you allow yourself to be about everything. Despite knowing all the ways it could hurt you. I could never be brave enough to live the way you do.”

“Really?” Yuuji mumbled, his voice muffled against Megumi’s shirt and Megumi felt it reverberate through his body. He suppressed a shiver.

“Yeah,” Megumi confirmed.

There was a pause and Megumi froze when he felt Yuuji’s breath against his neck.

“What do you know, that actually does make me feel better,” he said, sounding surprised that Megumi was capable of providing comfort. Megumi huffed in indignation and pinched his hip. 

Yuuji laughed a little wetly but still managed to pull on Megumi’s heartstrings. 

“But,” he continued stubbornly, because he was Yuuji. “I don’t think you aren’t brave. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, Gumi.”

And Megumi had to close his eyes at that, to take a composing breath because how could Yuuji just say things like that and expect Megumi’s carefully constructed world to stay intact?

Yuuji sniffled against his shoulder and Megumi melted, squeezing him closer for one long indulgent moment before he loosened his hold.

"How about this,” he suggested, keeping Yuuji at an arm’s length. “I'll watch the episode with you."

Yuuji’s eyes widened. "Really? But you don't know anything about it. You don’t have to."

Contrary to his words though, he sounded devastatingly hopeful and Megumi felt a smile pulling at his lips. 

He shrugged. "It's okay, I don't mind."

“There’s a ninety-nine per cent chance that I’ll cry again,” Yuuji warned.

“I know,” Megumi assured him.

And so Yuuji agreed with a small grin of his own, his eyes regaining their light from just a few choice words from Megumi.

In the next hour, Yuuji watched the television screen and Megumi watched Yuuji, transfixed by the myriad of expressions that played on his face as the clock ticked into the night.

He did cry again when the dreaded death happened, all soft sobs and breathless gasps. Megumi wordlessly drew him close and Yuuji moulded against him perfectly, as though the shape of their bodies were created with the other in mind.

They were halfway through the following episode when Yuuji started feeling heavier leaning against him, the upper half of his body slipping and draping across Megumi’s chest wantonly.

Megumi watched quietly as his breaths evened out and if there was a kiss pressed into pink hair that night, nobody had to know.

After depositing a mostly unconscious Yuuji into bed, Megumi trudged down to his own room—body exhausted but his mind sparking with electricity. There was no way he was sleeping that night.

"It worked, didn't it?" Toji asked when Megumi walked inside. The smirk he was wearing was smug, as though he already knew the answer.

"Shut up," Megumi muttered, but he couldn’t even pull that off properly—his cheeks blazing and a stupid smile refusing to leave his face. 

Toji laughed and Megumi balled his fists for a fight but then:

“Good job, kid,” Toji said. “I’m glad you’re happy.” There was an unbelievably soft edge to his voice that had Megumi glancing up in surprise. 

But he was already gone, having disappeared into thin air and leaving a hollow in his place that made Megumi feel just a little bit emptier.

It was nearing dawn when Megumi's eyes finally closed and if a phantom hand gently brushed over his head as he drifted off, then nobody had to know.

Bonus

"That's a dense one you've got there, son,” Toji said, sounding astonished. “He just forgot his phone in the freezer without even getting the ice cream out."

“He what—” Megumi turned around on the couch and sure enough, caught Yuuji swearing under his breath as he scrambled to open the freezer to take his phone back. He sighed and then remembered that he forgot the ice cream again and swore once more before getting the ice cream tub out this time.

They were there to begin the next season of the show Yuuji had cried over and admittedly, it was because of Megumi’s addiction that they watched it now.

Yuuji had lost most of his attraction to the series after his favourite characters’ deaths but was no less enthusiastic about it when he accompanied Megumi in the common room, even if he did end up falling asleep in his lap every single time.

Megumi’s lips twitched into a smile. God, he loved him.

“Leave him alone, it was an accident,” he told his father, and then promptly registered that Toji was here. He directed a glare at him. “Also, why are you here?”

Toji grinned. “Just popped around to make sure all my hard work didn’t go to waste.”

“You literally did nothing,” Megumi informed him icily, and then lowered his voice when he saw Yuuji glancing over. “Can you please shut up? And leave? This is so inappropriate."

Toji rolled his eyes. “You’re so uptight, I wonder who you got that from.”

Megumi bristled. “Go away or I swear to god—”

“Fine, fine. No need to burst a blood vessel over it,” Toji drawled, already disintegrating into the air particles.

He spared one last look at Yuuji and his expression softened. “Keep that one close,” he told Megumi. “He’s good for you.” 

And this. Megumi was never going to get used to this. It jarred him every time Toji showed some semblance of care towards him, be it through words or actions. He wondered if how he felt about Yuuji was how his father had felt towards his mother—wondered if the wistful look he spotted in his eyes sometimes was really there or if Megumi was imagining it.

"Who were you talking to?" Yuuji snapped him out of his thoughts, sitting himself down beside Megumi and placing the ice cream between them with two spoons sticking out of it.

Megumi looked at him and without missing a beat said, "My dad's ghost." 

He didn’t know what prompted him to blurt out his biggest secret like that but unlike anyone else, Yuuji didn’t question him on it and believed him instantly. 

"Really? That’s so cool!” he exclaimed, looking around the room. "Fushiguro-san, hello."

Megumi didn't think he'd be so polite if he knew what kind of things Toji had done in his lifetime.

He shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Hey!” Yuuji pouted. “I’m just trying to be nice. I thought it was hard impressing Gojo-sensei but now your real dad too?”

Megumi relocated the ice cream to the table and shifted closer to ruffle Yuuji’s hair. “Don’t worry, the only one you need to impress is me.”

Yuuji scoffed. “You make that sound so easy.”

Megumi cuffed him around the head lightly and with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Yuuji tackled him onto his back on the couch, eliciting a yelp out of him. He trapped Megumi under him, grinning victoriously for a moment and then suddenly paused.

Megumi raised a questioning eyebrow.

The grin slipped off Yuuji’s face and he sent an apprehensive glance around the room before tentatively meeting Megumi’s gaze. 

“Is he really here?” he whispered nervously, and Megumi’s heart clenched helplessly, overwhelmed by the level of trust Yuuji had in him. 

He had no idea why he believed him about Toji, had no reason to take Megumi’s word for such a bizarre claim. It should’ve sounded absurd to anyone else but Yuuji’s caramel eyes only held steadfast sincerity that Megumi was still getting used to.

“No.” Megumi smiled at him. “I sent him away,” he said, pulling Yuuji down by the strings of his hoodie to press a kiss to his lips. Yuuji made a soft sound against his mouth and Megumi hoped Toji really had made himself scarce.

The television screen bathed Yuuji in a white light and his hands were gentle on Megumi’s neck.

He wrapped an arm around Yuuji’s waist to draw him close and taking his father’s advice for once, Megumi planned to keep him that way.