Chapter Text
The first time Hiroko Mio saw Itadori Yuuji, he almost shat his pants.
Hiroko was kind of new to all this curse business, but he’d been at it for long enough that he’d heard of Itadori Yuuji. Or rather, of The Vessel, as most people liked to call him. Mio doubted most of these people even knew Itadori-san’s first name. He’d heard it all, probably more than was true. That he had killed hundreds of people, that he could pulverize skulls with his bare hands alone—without any effort or cursed energy whatsoever—that he was on a similar level as Okkotsu Yuuta.
Suffice to say, Mio had a specific image in mind whenever he thought of him. But since he was an optimist at heart, he kind of hoped that all these things would turn out to be—well, wrong.
And then he saw him, on his very first day on the Jujutsu High campus.
Mio was walking next to another first-year who he only knew the last name of: Arata. They’d met in front of the gate a couple minutes ago, had looked at each other, understood they were both new, and quietly made their way towards the main compound. Arata had just mumbled her last name and that had been it. Mio didn’t feel like probing, he was nervous enough as it was. He didn’t want to make enemies on his first day.
There weren’t any direction signs anywhere so Mio hoped someone would help them if they got lost. In the distance, he saw a figure walking towards them, dressed in the school’s uniform that had an odd red hood. Mio was about to call out to them to ask where the principal’s office was, since they were expected to announce themselves, when he heard Arata next to him suck in a breath.
“That’s Itadori Yuuji,” she whispered.
Mio’s head whipped around and he squinted to see better. Itadori-san was walking quickly, head lowered, hands twisting. Arata and Mio froze on the spot, holding their breath. At least Mio was; he kind of didn’t want to look over to check up on Arata—the primal fear that even the smallest of his movements could inevitably attract Itadori-san’s attention. His fingers tingled, his skin buzzed. His heart started beating faster—he really didn’t want to get beaten up on his first day.
Still a few paces ahead, Itadori-san’s head shot up as if he had sensed their presence, his eyes finding them unerringly. He had a severe frown on his face, the twin scars underneath his eyes that Mio knew weren’t really scars standing out in sharp relief on his slightly-tanned skin. He had other ones—other scars—on the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his mouth, but it felt like Mio didn’t really see them, could only focus on the crescent ones that hid… something darker.
Itadori-san’s aura felt so dark that Mio had half a mind to hide behind Arata. He wondered if Itadori-san had murdered someone recently. And if he did, Mio hoped he wouldn’t be the next person whose skull got pulverized.
Itadori-san stopped in his tracks and looked them up and down, noting their expressions and their luggage with an unflinching face. And then, like clouds parting for the sun, he began to grin.
Mio supposed that the majority of the human population would say that Itadori-san had a nice grin. He, however, was scared shitless.
“Senpai,” Arata said and bowed. Mio was so impressed she didn’t stutter that he couldn’t say anything as he, too, bowed deep.
Itadori-san laughed and it sounded so good-natured that Mio got chills. Goddamngoddamngoddamn, he didn’t want to die.
“What! Don’t bow, don’t bow, it’s all good!” Itadori-san said as he came closer, his red sneakers stepping into view.
When Mio straightened up, he was surprised to see that Itadori-san was shorter than him. Not by a lot, but enough to make Mio look slightly down at him.
“I’m Itadori Yuuji,” he said, smiling, his whole face open, the expression tugging on his myriad of scars.
Mio only barely kept himself from saying “I know” like a dumbass and instead introduced himself. “Hiroko Mio.”
Arata bowed again. “Arata Sachiko.”
Itadori-san took another step closer and clasped both their shoulders. Mio locked his muscles to keep from flinching. It didn’t even hurt, it was just a friendly clap. So far so good. “Well,” Itadori-san said, still smiling. “I’ll take you to the principal and afterwards to the dorms! Come on.”
Without waiting for their replies, Itadori-san turned on his heel and strode back in the direction he had come from. And even though he’d looked as if he had a specific place to go to before he’d encountered both Arata and Mio, Mio sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to remind him. He gripped his luggage tighter and followed Itadori-san quietly, keeping in his shadow and hopefully out of his line of sight.
Better safe than sorry.
*
And as if fate was laughing at him, the first time Mio saw Fushiguro Megumi, he fell in love.
It was, absurdly, only about twenty minutes after he had met Itadori-san. They had walked towards the principal’s office where both Arata and Mio got their ass handed to them by plushies, and after a mildly threatening pep-talk, had gotten their room arrangements.
Itadori-san had watched it all with crossed arms and a vaguely amused expression on his face, and when he’d heard that Mio was apparently on the same floor as him, his eyes had shone with excitement. Mio, who had just tried to calm the hell down, had felt another spike of adrenaline at that.
They’d left the principal’s office and Itadori-san had started to talk a mile a minute, about classes and Mio and Arata’s senpais, about Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei, both of whom even Mio knew. Mio had had trouble catching up, both with the fast pace he was speaking and walking. He’d stumbled when his feet had caught on a fallen branch and would have eaten dirt if Itadori-san’s hand hadn’t shot out to steady him in time.
Holding back a curse, Mio had just been about to thank him when Itadori-san had yelled, right next to his ear, “Fushiguro!”
Now, Mio and Arata, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a laugh behind her hand, turned at once, bracing themselves for another upperclassman. Ears still ringing from the shout, Mio’s breath caught as the other senpai stepped closer, a blank look on his face. Mio’s mouth turned dry—those eyelashes.
“What is it?” Fushiguro-san said, eyeing Itadori-san’s hand on Mio’s shoulder. Mio wondered if the wary look on Fushiguro-san’s face was because he was also afraid Itadori-san was about to dislocate Mio’s arm.
Itadori-san stepped back, the hand he had on Mio’s shoulder lifting to tousle his own shockingly pink hair. He pointed an accusing finger at Fushiguro-san. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
Fushiguro-san rolled his eyes. “Kugisaki forced me to carry her bags.”
“Oh.” Itadori-san narrowed his eyes, something that made Mio’s pulse skyrocket unpleasantly. “You got me anything?”
Fushiguro-san held his gaze for a second before shrugging. “Some sushi from that one place.”
Itadori-san fist-pumped the air—an act that looked so stupid that Mio felt himself relax a little bit. “Yes! You do love me, Fushi!”
Fushiguro-san didn’t even bat an eyelash at the horrible nickname but Mio felt himself cringe enough for the both of them. Itadori-san started to talk about something Mio didn’t get, something about souvenirs and conveyor belts, so he kind of zoned looking at Fushiguro-san’s unfairly pretty face. There was the slightest hint of a blush on the crests of his cheeks and Mio could have swooned. His all black ensemble and the hair gave him such a roguish look, contrasting like a dream with the smooth plains of his face. And as if that wasn’t enough already, there were these eyes, a startling shade of green, catching the light falling between the leaves, making them almost sparkle, and those eyelashes only enh—
Mio was torn out of his daydreaming as all three gazes turned to him at once, expectantly. He panicked—his brain was trying to catch back up, but failed. He said, “Huh?” and immediately wanted to smack himself into another dimension.
Fushiguro-san was arching a brow, and Mio felt himself flush bright red. “I’m Fushiguro Megumi.” Megumi.
And then Mio realized he was waiting for him to introduce himself. Having never felt this hot with embarrassment before in his entire life, Mio bowed even deeper than he did to Itadori-san, just to get himself another second to breathe. “Hiroko Mio. Glad to make your acquaintance, Fushiguro-senpai.”
“Yeah, Fushiguro-senpai,” Itadori-san said nonsensically, grinning wildly.
“Shut up, Itadori.” Then, as if it were nothing, Fushiguro-senpai smacked the back of Itadori-san’s head. Just like that.
Seeing his life flash before his eyes, Mio could do nothing but gape when Itadori-san began to laugh, clutching Fushiguro-senpai’s arm.
Itadori-san gave them a bright grin before turning to continue their walk. “Come on, we’ll show you the dorms.”
Mio couldn’t help but notice the way Itadori-san still clung to Fushiguro-senpai’s arm for another couple steps before he let go. And the way Fushiguro-senpai’s side-profile was absolutely stunning as he turned his head to say something to Itadori-san in a voice so quiet neither Mio nor Arata could hear him. Not that he tried. Much.
He still wanted to live another couple years.
*
To Mio’s surprise, Itadori-senpai was more… ridiculously happy puppy than homicidal serial killer curse king. Which he was kind of glad about, he supposed.
The first couple days before the term officially started, Arata stuck to his side the same way he stuck to hers, and they didn’t really see any other students at first. Mio had wanted to ‘accidentally’ stumble upon Fushiguro-senpai again to strike up a conversation, but that had turned out to be impossible because even though their rooms were on the same floor, Mio had seen neither Itadori-senpai nor Fushiguro-senpai since that first fateful day. When he’d finally met another senpai, a second-year called Gushiken Shota, he’d found out that Fushiguro-senpai and Itadori-senpai were on a mission with the only other third-year student he hadn’t met yet.
Mio knew there weren’t a lot of students at Jujutsu High, only about twelve or so, and he hadn’t exactly expected to see much of his senpais since that was the way most schools worked. You had your peers, the one in the same year as yourself, and that was it. Which is why he was shocked to see every last student sitting around the giant dining hall table when he walked into the room to make himself dinner the evening before the school year started.
Arata and Gushiken-senpai were already there, and with a start, Mio realized Fushiguro-senpai and Itadori-senpai were as well, albeit a little further away from the rest, standing at the stove. Mio didn’t know anyone else’s names. He felt a rather familiar spike of anxiety as every last head turned to him, appraising.
“Hiroko!” Arata said and waved him over. Trying to keep his face blank and knowing he was failing, Mio stepped towards the table and gave one generic bow. “I’m Hiroko Mio, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Hiroko-san,” a girl with glasses and short hair said. “I’m Maki. Just Maki.”
Hiroko nodded. “Just Hiroko.”
Maki smiled.
“Umeboshi,” another person who was sitting next to a giant living breathing talking panda said. Mio wasn’t sure what to feel about that.
“That’s Inumaki Toge,” the panda said. “Don’t mind him. I’m Panda.”
Mio looked at Arata and hoped that she understood what he was trying to say with his face, even though he wasn’t sure what it was himself. She just nodded.
“Yes,” said another voice then. Itadori-senpai. He was waving large cooking chopsticks in the air and regarded Mio with an amused expression. “He’s a panda called Panda.”
“… Right,” Mio said and looked at Fushiguro-senpai just to catch him trying to steal one of the meatballs Itadori-senpai had been frying. Itadori-senpai’s chopsticks slapped against Fushiguro-senpai’s fingers faster than Mio could look. “Where’re your manners, Fushiguro?”
A light and droll voice piped up from the table, “Don’t act so innocent, Itadori. As if you’re any better.” The girl talking flipped her short hair before turning back to her conversation with Gushiken-senpai.
“Salmon,” Inumaki-senpai said. Mio just took it at face value.
“That’s Kugisaki Nobara,” Fushiguro-senpai said and turned to look at Mio with his startling green eyes. He pointed at the rest, one after the other. “Chibana Yui, second year.” Chibana-senpai waved, her braided orange hair draped over her shoulder.
“Endomoto Itsuki, another first-year.” Endomoto nodded at him. Mio nodded back.
That done, Fushiguro-senpai turned back to the stove, shoulder checking against Itadori-senpai’s, who started laughing. “You’re such a softie, Fushiguro.”
Fushiguro frowned. “I’m not.”
A booming laugh turned all their attention towards the dining hall doors. A blindfolded man carrying a frankly excessive amount of bags strode towards them, white hair gleaming underneath the headlights. Mio turned back around and saw Fushiguro rolling his eyes so hard that it must have hurt.
“You are, Megumi-chan.”
“Shut up, Gojo.”
“Sensei!” Itadori abandoned the stove to get wrapped up in a hug from Gojo Satoru, who ruffled through the pink locks as if Itadori-senpai was nothing but a stray dog. Without comment, Fushiguro-senpai picked up the discarded chopsticks and turned the meatballs over to keep them from getting burnt.
“I brought you all little somethings!” Gojo-sensei said and proceeded to hand everyone, even Mio and the other first-years, shirts that turned out to have exceptionally bad puns on them. Mio’s read, “Have you ever heard a cow laugh? They go moo-ha-ha-ha-ha.” He wanted to burn it.
“I don’t want it,” Fushiguro-senpai said while everyone else was either hesitantly or resignedly thanking Gojo-sensei.
“Why not, Megumi? You’re hurting my feelings!” Gojo-sensei pouted. Pouted. Mio was kind of tempted to cut his leg open to see if this was a crazy visceral nightmare.
“At least I won’t be hurting my eyes.” He threw Gojo-sensei a look over his shoulder before his gaze slid to Itadori-senpai who had just put the shirt on over his uniform. Mio pinched his own arm as he read it. Why did the blouse break up with the t-shirt? Because he didn’t collar.
“No,” was all Fushiguro-senpai said. Itadori-senpai started to pout too.
“Fushiguro,” he whined. Mio turned around to see if everyone else was as incredulous as him, but, except for the other first-years, everyone else was talking among themselves, shirts forgotten already. Mio got the feeling this had to be a regular occurrence, but he couldn’t imagine ever getting used to this like all the others.
Itadori-senpai started to walk back towards Fushiguro-senpai, but stopped abruptly when Gojo-sensei threw a scrunched up t-shirt at Fushiguro-senpai’s head. It didn’t even fly particularly fast but Fushiguro-senpai’s head snapped forward with the impact of it and slammed against the low-hanging cupboard in front of him. He was still for a moment, the t-shirt sliding painfully slowly down his back. Itadori-senpai lifted his hand slowly, so slowly, and pressed it against his mouth, eyes wide.
Everyone else was still talking when Fushiguro-senpai turned around, face dark, a bright red spot on his forehead, murder in his eyes. Mio felt a shiver roll down his spine.
“Oops,” Gojo-sensei said, grinning, scratching his cheek.
Fushiguro-senpai took a step towards him.
“You know what,” Gojo-sensei said. “I think I’m gonna go now.”
He took another step.
“This has been fun and all—” he continued.
Another step.
“—but I’d better go. I still have so much to do, all the appointments and all of that, you know how it is. I shouldn’t be late!”
Another step, this time accompanied by the flaring of cursed energy around Fushiguro-senpai’s knuckles.
“Stay boring, Megumi. Toodles.” Gojo-sensei flicked Fushiguro’s forehead, right against the red spot, laughed, turned on his heel, and vanished.
Itadori-senpai was clutching his stomach, face bright red, cheeks round with held-in laughter. “Fushi—”
“Don’t.”
“But—”
Fushiguro-senpai slowly turned his head to look at Itadori-senpai. It was fucking terrifying, Mio was frozen on the spot. But whatever Itadori-senpai saw on his face, it was enough to make him finally burst out laughing, arm reaching out to brace himself against the wall behind him.
Fushiguro-senpai’s cursed energy flared brighter and a growl sliced through the room. Mio’s heart jumped into his freaking throat as he saw the large black-and-white wolf materialize next to Fushiguro-senpai. Shikigami. He had a shikigami. Mio’s mouth dropped open in awe.
When Itadori-senpai didn’t stop laughing, faced with what was one-hundred percent meant to be a threat, Fushiguro-senpai reached out, and, fist swallowed by cursed energy, punched Itadori-senpai’s shoulder.
Mio flinched, clenching one of his eyes shut, expecting Itadori-senpai to fly through the dining room wall, but he just—rocked back slightly, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears of laughter streaming down his face before he brushed against his punched shoulder in passing. His other hand nonchalantly reached out to scratch between the shikigami’s ears as if—as if the giant wolf was just a regular pet.
Mio felt all the color leave his face.
“Hey!” someone—Mio thought it must have been Kugisaki-senpai—yelled over the din of conversation. “You about done, Fushiguro? Get back to dinner, Itadori. We’re starving.”
“Salmon.”
Chuckling, Itadori-senpai reached out to brush two fingers against Fushiguro-senpai’s forehead. “Does it hurt?”
Fushiguro-senpai just scoffed and turned away, the shikigami vanishing into shadows with a flick of his wrist. “Get back to dinner, Itadori. I’ll never let you cook again if you burn the meatballs.”
Itadori-senpai shook his head, a smirk playing around his lips. “Yes, sir.”
Mio thought he might have ended up in hell.