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All things considered, Megumi really is one of the most perfect bosses that Miwa could ever ask for.
Painfully polite. Reasonable. Relatively undemanding even, especially when Miwa peeks into the EA groupchat only to see Utahime going on yet another multi-text, Gojo-related tirade.
To say Miwa’s thankful would be an understatement, if any.
Please, Miwa. Thank you, Miwa.
Megumi has absolutely flawless manners each time and he hasn’t even made her cry once since she’s started at the firm. Not once! Now that’s a win in Miwa’s books, nevermind how most of the other EAs agree that the bar’s almost low enough to be in the ninth circle of hell at this point. Take this week's Big Success, for instance: the fact that Gojo has only tried to grab Utahime’s ass twice this week, and it’s already Wednesday.
In any case, this is less of a complaint on Miwa’s part and more of an observation. And Miwa says this with all the care and respect she has for her boss, but Megumi really could stand to emote just a bit more.
She's not even asking for something as uncouth as a smile. That’d be like asking for spaceflight before the invention of the wheel, and Miwa's not stupid. She's not greedy, either. There are limits.
But…if Megumi could just have an emotion, once in a while? Any one at all? Just as a little treat?
Miwa would like that very much indeed.
And look, Miwa’s encountered a lot of soulless automatons in her time, but bless his cold little heart, Megumi’s probably the most detached, most indifferent person she’s ever had the pleasure of working with.
The man could be negotiating a merger complex enough to make your eyes water, or just putting in an order for his usual mid-morning coffee (triple shot long black, no sugar) – Megumi's stone cold either way. Face as blank as a slate. Nada. Zilch.
Miwa gets it, though. She really does.
You need to be a tough as nails bastard to make it in this line of work. Any crack in the facade is going to get wrenched open the moment it’s noticed, so she can’t fully blame Megumi for shutting it all down at the source. To be quite frank, she’s regularly surprised that Megumi isn’t more of a dickhead like the other partners.
Not that Miwa is in any position to complain. No, she’ll definitely take Megumi's glacial aloofness over Gojo’s leering gaze and general asshattery any day, nevermind how the constant coolness does tend to make her a little nervous on the days that end with a Y. At least she's not the kind to need active, ongoing validation to do her job. None of them are, and thank fuck for that – everyone in the groupchat would be out on the street within the first week if that was true, but…
Still.
Privately, Miwa thinks it'd be nice to be able to distinguish between Megumi’s I’m furious enough to commit a triple homicide right now face and his This is a nice sandwich, I really enjoy egg salad on rye one. On the day that Geto quit to start his own firm up, Megumi's eye hadn't even so much as twitched, which Miwa honestly found much more scary than the stapler that Gojo had hurled at the wall.
So: maybe Megumi won't send office supplies sailing through the air, but Miwa isn't a betting kinda gal. There's always a first time for everything after all, and judging by the way things are going right now, Miwa has to wonder if this is going to be the one thing that outs Megumi as the raging psychopath that she knows all corporate lawyers really are on the inside.
“No,” she hisses into her headset, more than aghast at the thought. “Fuck no. Are you sure it can’t just wait?”
Momo just whines on her end of the line, equally desperate. “Please?” she begs, drawing the word out. “Come on, you know how Mai can get. I know for a fact that Megumi doesn’t even yell at you, so it’ll be fine.”
“That’ll be liable to change if I do this though, and you know it.”
“Then you get to finally join the club.” Momo is pleading again, tacking on a long please that Miwa knows she’s weak against.
For fuck’s sake.
Also yes, she does unfortunately know how Mai can get.
“Send it over,” Miwa eventually sighs, giving in way too easily. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. Also, if I get fired, I’m blaming you, okay? You.”
In the ten, almost eleven months that Miwa has worked here, she’s come to learn that Megumi doesn’t hold many things sacred. Holidays, weekends – hell, she’s seen him send emails at four fucking fifteen in the morning on Christmas Day, so Megumi well and truly doesn’t give a fuck.
There is, however, one thing that he does uphold with an almost religious fanaticism. The one thing that no one is allowed to touch or even suggest moving out of his calendar:
The 1 hour 15 minute long lunch break he takes from noon every Wednesday.
And what time is it now?
That’s right.
12:10pm. On a Wednesday.
It’s just a lunch break, Miwa tells herself glumly as she prints out the variation that Mai needs reviewed and faxed back to her by 1:30pm. Just a simple, non-negotiable break that she’s been explicitly told to arrange Megumi’s entire schedule around.
No biggie. No pressure at all.
Miwa doesn’t even know why she keeps checking it when it’s not going to change until 1:15 at the very earliest, but there it is all the same, mocking her. The glaring Do Not Disturb status on Megumi’s Teams profile. This means Miwa also needs to do one unthinkable thing on top of another and call Megumi’s personal mobile number, i.e. the one that he’d given her in case of emergencies.
This counts as an emergency, right? Surely?
Because Megumi is Megumi, he picks up on the first ring, Miwa already trying not to stumble over her apology as she explains the situation.
So very sorry to disturb him, she really didn’t want to do this, but due to some delays upstream, Mai in the Kyoto office really, really needs this variation reviewed and returned by 1:30pm. Would that…be possible?
There’s a pause, Miwa already bracing for at least a curt reprimand, but strangely, Megumi…isn’t mad in the slightest? Or at least, his voice doesn’t sound particularly terse or even annoyed when he just apologises to her (to her!) instead, for asking her if she could come out to a nearby park with the documents. He’d go back to the office immediately, but he’s just a bit preoccupied at the moment
“Of course,” Miwa stammers. Stunned. Thankfully, she’s wearing her sensible heels today. “I’ll be there in ten.”
All the cardio she’s been doing in the evenings must be good for something, because she’s there in six and a bit, folder clutched nervously in both hands as she scans the expanse of the green space in front of her.
A student lying on the grass in the sun. A mother ambling past, cooing at the baby in her pram. Lone businessmen eating combini meals while perched on, or leaning against various flat surfaces, a quick glance telling her that Megumi’s lean, sharply-dressed figure is definitely not amongst their number.
Honestly, Miwa’s not even sure what to expect. What Megumi does on his own time is frankly none of Miwa’s business, but she’s still given in to wondering, of course.
Who can’t, when one’s boss has a non-negotiable lunch break blacked out in his calendar each week?
Does he go to visit a sick family member in hospital each week? Gets a massage? Books one of those weird pod things that you can nap in?
Miwa could have lived her life peacefully without ever knowing the answer, but like it or not, here she is now. And there Megumi is, too, waving her over from where he’s seated on a shady bench with two dogs at his feet. One of them lifts a giant, fluffy head a little sleepily when she approaches, tentative.
Miwa likes dogs. These are just…big.
Very big.
“Don’t mind them,” Megumi says, casual as anything as he takes the folder from her, already flicking to where she’s marked up all of Mai’s amendments with colourful sticky tabs. “They shed a fair bit though, so if they manage to get any on you, there’s a lint roller in the bag if you need it.”
And so there is. Huh.
The bright blue handle is poking out of a sedate looking tote bag by his side, Miwa knowing for a fact that Megumi had left the office empty handed this afternoon. Curiouser and curiouser.
Because Megumi has manners, he pats the conspicuously empty seat next to him – a clear sign that Miwa should stop her nervous hovering and sit down, even if she does end up having to angle her legs a bit oddly around one massive Malamute that refuses to move until Megumi nudges him with the tip of one polished leather shoe. The dog huffs and eventually shifts, reluctant.
“Sorry,” Megumi says, distracted by a sub-clause. He’s idly toying with a neon green sticky tab between his slim fingers as he does, thinking about the implications associated with this new change. “He’s stubborn when he’s sleepy. Usually has better manners.”
“Ah,” Miwa says intelligently. “I see.”
“You can pet him if you want, Kuro’s friendly. They both are.”
The fact that Megumi has a standing appointment to sit in the park with his dogs for an hour and a bit each week is…stupidly sweet, actually. Miwa reaches down to awkwardly give the Malamute closest to her a scritch behind one fluffy ear, Kuro pushing back against her hand in obvious enjoyment.
It’s really not what she’d expected from Megumi, granted, but like everything else with him, Miwa knows she’ll definitely prefer this to whatever the likes of Gojo, or gods forbid, Nobara might get up to in their free time. Knowing them, they probably spend it hunting people for sport in a reserve somewhere, or something equally strange and terrifying.
Unexpectedly boring and normal is nice. Good, even. Better than whatever weird shit the other partners get up to.
But that still leaves the question: Where on earth did they come from when–
To say that Miwa startles at the sight would be underselling it, in the end. One moment she’s considering how soft the fur behind a dog’s ear can be and the next, she’s looking up to see a man – no, a thug heading right for them. All confident swagger and hulking muscle barely contained in a faded band tee-shirt, dark tattoos on his face and arms standing out boldly against his tanned skin. He’s massive. He’s absolutely fucking terrifying.
For a long few seconds, Miwa has to entertain the idea that they’re going to get mugged in broad daylight.
Should she nudge Megumi? What’s Megumi going to do, though? Fuck, what is she going to do?
But…no. Now that the man has drawn closer to them, Miwa can see that’s not the face of someone about to beat Megumi up for the Patek Philippe on his elegant wrist.
“Oi,” the man says in greeting as he approaches. “Still working?”
Megumi finally looks up then, and it’s like watching a scene from one of those infuriatingly silly romcoms that Momo likes, but in real life. Like ice melting in double-time, the cold severity on Megumi’s face softens into something so much warmer instead.
And is that…
Is that an honest to god smile on his face?
“I don’t see a caramel latte,” Megumi says, voice tilting towards what could generously count as a pout. If Miwa wasn’t already sitting down, she’s sure her legs would have given out at this point.
Who is this man and what has he done to her boss?
“Sorry sweetheart, they’re out today.” The man holds up a purple can, condensation already beading on the cold metal. “Got you an iced mocha though?”
Sweetheart?
Miwa is vaguely aware that her eyes must be bugging out of her face at the moment.
Fushiguro Sweetheart Megumi?
Meanwhile, Megumi just hums. Reaches up to deftly catch the can that’s tossed his way before looking at Miwa expectantly.
“You usually get a vanilla latte, don’t you?” he asks, as if this is all sane and normal.
“Uh, yes?”
To the stranger’s credit, he doesn’t pitch the beige can right at her. Just offers it up normally, smirking a little at the look of surprise she knows she’s wearing on her face.
“I texted Sukuna to get you one too, since you were coming out all the way,” Megumi continues, as if that’s supposed to help Miwa come to terms with the whole situation. Absolutely none of this is making sense right now and Miwa is reeling, simply reeling from it all. “Least I could do.”
In the end, Miwa’s excellent self-preservation instincts kick in and she jumps to her feet so she can bob a polite bow at Sukuna. Make a quick introduction before taking the proffered can as well – still cold, straight from a vending machine.
“So you’re Memi’s EA, huh?” Sukuna’s smirk has eased into a more approachable smile at this point. Through the cloudy haze of her ongoing confusion, Miwa faintly registers that he actually has a really nice face when he looks like that. Cocksure. Masculine. Handsome, even.
What the fuck.
“Be nice, Sukuna,” Megumi warns a bit absently, having gone back to looking at Mai’s amendments. There are only three more sticky tabs to go, Megumi having accumulated a neat assortment of the previous ones on the back of his hand.
Sukuna just waves him off, dismissive.
“As if I’m not already the nice one in this relationship.” He affixes Miwa with a Look then, the kind that Miwa knows comes with a capital L. “Since you’re in charge of his calendar, make sure he actually gets up from his desk at least once every three hours, okay? And don’t let him bully you.”
Megumi has to scoff at this. “As if I would,” he says, turning to the next page. Two more sticky tabs to go. “Do I look like Gojo to you?”
“Thank fuck, no.”
Megumi laughs at this, and in an afternoon of firsts, that’s another one for the record, too. Miwa should have noted down the exact time, because that has to be the very first genuine laugh that Miwa has ever heard from Megumi after almost a year in this job. It’s only a brief one, but there’s a nice sound to it – light and relaxed. Clearly happy.
Because Megumi has no clue that he’s blowing Miwa’s little mind right now, he’s blithely moved on to initialling each page. Almost there then, thank the gods and their entire pantheons. Another few pages and Miwa can have an excuse to escape this weird alternate reality where her boss is seemingly capable of having emotions.
Just as well. Once Miwa sends this back to Momo and Mai, she really needs to go stand in a quiet corner for a long while so she can process everything she’s just seen.
“Miwa,” Megumi says, snapping her out of her daze. “Would you kindly tell my husband that I’m not a bully?”
“Megumi doesn’t bully me,” Miwa confirms loyally even though her mind seems to be stuck in an infinite boot-loop at the word husband. Husband! What the fuck!
It’s Sukuna’s turn to laugh now, Miwa noticing how the corners of Megumi’s mouth automatically turn up at the sound.
“It doesn’t count if he’s literally told you to say that, but…” Sukuna leans in close, as if sharing a secret he wants Megumi to overhear. “He’s scary on the outside, but he’s actually just a big softy. You should really use that to your advantage.”
“Stop feeding lies to my EA.”
In response, Sukuna just reaches for Megumi’s iced mocha. Opens the can for him and sets it back at his side just as Megumi sighs, recapping his pen now that every amended clause and every page has been initialled.
“Apologies for the wait, Miwa. That took a bit longer than I thought.” There are no sticky tabs left anymore, the agreement slid neatly back into its folder when he hands it over to her. “Was that it? I’ll have a word with Mai later in the afternoon too, so if you could slot that in for anytime after 2:30 that’d be great, thanks.”
Miwa bobs another polite bow.
That was it, and yes, anytime after 2:30, of course.
Unexpectedly, Miwa finds that she’s retained enough good sense to tack on a grateful thank you to Megumi and Sukuna for their understanding, as well as for the very unexpected, but definitely welcome coffee treat. She’s also halfway through an apology for imposing on their time before Megumi flat out refuses it like the perfect gentleman he is.
Even tells Miwa to take a longer lunch break later instead, since Mai’s demands would have eaten into hers.
Gods, Miwa has to think, not for the first time in the past fifteen minutes. Just stunned as she squeaks out a half-hearted agreement at Megumi’s proposal. She’s really gone and lucked out with Megumi, hasn’t she? Did she save a country in her past life? Utahime must have committed a genocide or two, in comparison.
By the time Miwa takes her leave of them, Sukuna is already rummaging through the tote bag and pulling out what looks like homemade bentos.
Gods, Miwa thinks again. Gods above, she can’t bear it. It’s too fucking much to process all at once.
And yet, because Miwa’s not big on self control and she knows the EA groupchat will pillory her if she doesn’t seize this chance, of course Miwa has to sneak one last look at them after she’s gone past an acceptable distance.
Just a quick, sneaky one. For the sake of science and her sanity more than anything, if only to ensure she hasn’t made the whole insane situation up in her head.
She throws a glance over her shoulder and oh, okay, Miwa almost wishes that she hasn’t now, because watching them like this makes her feel like the dirtiest of voyeurs. It feels…wrong, somehow, to have suddenly gained access to this side of Megumi and yet, she can’t seem to stop watching.
Can’t stop cataloguing the myriad ways in which Megumi seems to be a completely different person, now that he’s with Sukuna.
Even his posture has changed – he’s holding himself so much looser now that she’s gone, shoulders relaxed as he leans fully against Sukuna’s side. He’s taken her spot on the bench, beat-up runners resting comfortably on the back of one dozing dog as he speaks to Megumi, gesturing wildly with one hand and chopsticks held loosely in his other.
Whatever he’s saying must be funny, because Megumi is on the verge of laughing again, eyes crinkled and hand covering his mouth after having just taken a bite of whatever bento Sukuna has prepared.
From here, she can just about see the sticky tabs that he’s forgotten to remove from the back of his hand. There they are: Neon coloured and translucent, the silly things.
Sukuna must have noticed them too, because he’s taking Megumi’s hand in his to peel them off, still speaking animatedly as he does.
What are they talking about, she wonders? There’s fondness written all over Megumi’s face, the usually harsh angles there softened with what Miwa knows is love.
Held securely in Sukuna’s much larger one, Megumi’s hand looks almost dainty in comparison. It’s just the perfect size, though, to rest comfortably in Sukuna’s, the two of them fitting together in a way that makes Miwa feel a little warm on the inside. Sukuna’s saying something that has Megumi smiling as he raises Megumi’s hand up to his lips, and Megumi just laughs once more, clearly delighted when Sukuna presses a gentle kiss to the back of it.
Miwa can feel her cheeks flush a little at the sight. It must be secondhand embarrassment because there they go, wrapped up in their own world. So much like highschool sweethearts on a weekend date, Sukuna making as if he’s about to stick the recently-rescued tabs on Megumi’s cheek and Megumi yelping a little in return when he realises Sukuna’s intent, the both of them still holding hands like idiots in love.
Ah, fuck.
Maybe there are some things that the EA groupchat can stand to not know. Also, if anyone even thinks about trying to reach Megumi between the hours of 12pm to 1:15pm on a Wednesday…
Miwa clutches the folder a little tighter and looks away, then. Picks up her pace as she heads back towards the office, mind already made up right there and then. Determined.
Good luck getting through her first.