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Itadori Yuji had always been interesting to Megumi. He caught the shikigami-user’s interest the day they first met, when he shattered a world record in his high school field and proceeded to race off faster than Megumi could ever dream of running.
And then they spoke face-to-face. Something about the casual, nonchalant way he conducted himself and how he held himself after his grandfather had just passed away felt almost refreshing to Megumi, who hadn’t seen someone like this before.
It helped that he was good looking too. He had a boyish charm and his smile, oh how Megumi could talk about his smile for hours, was blinding. And that smile was directed towards him more often than not, he swore he was blessed, being able to see such genuine happiness. His hair was a little spiky but it was pink and it looked oh so soft and Megumi wanted to run his fingers through it – and then he died.
They hadn’t even known each other for that long and Megumi was just starting to come to terms with his feelings for someone doomed to an execution, housing the Double Faced Spectre himself inside his body, when that dreaded mission happened and Megumi had to watch his friend die.
He still had nightmares about it to this day.
Megumi could only watch in horror as a sharp nail-tipped hand dug into Yuji’s chest as if it were made of butter, and simply extracted a bleeding heart. A glistening heart that Sukuna grinned at before he tossed it to the side like it was worthless, like it wasn’t the most important thing to Megumi. He tossed it aside and splattered the grass in crimson.
He didn’t know what to do, what to feel. He was… numb. Dark hair plastered to his forehead from the pouring rain, the heavens weeping above them and Megumi wanted to weep with them. His hand twitched at his side, aching to reach out and cup Yuji’s face, beg him to come back, but this wasn’t Yuji anymore. This was Sukuna and he had doomed Yuji.
The fight felt like a blur, he remembered so much pain, he remembered being thrown into buildings and bleeding the same red as Yuji’s heart and he remembered how utterly weak he was against Sukuna.
“I don’t happen to have any logical reason… for saving you then,” Megumi spoke, his voice low and so soft. “Even if it was dangerous, I didn’t want to see a good person like you die. I had some doubts, but… ultimately I made a selfish choice driven by my emotions.”
And God, he was so selfish. He had been so selfish in asking Gojo to save Yuji, because now he was in so deep and he knew Yuji was going to die. He was going to die and leave Megumi a husk of his former self. But dammit, he was selfish and he wanted whatever he could get, he wanted it all.
“But that’s fine. I’m not a hero. I’m a sorcerer. That’s why I never regretted saving you… not even once.”
And when Megumi lifted his gaze again, the dark markings on his body fading and a tender smile spreading across his face, eyes crinkled. “I see.”
And Megumi almost stumbled back at the softness and warmth in the voice because that was Yuji. That wasn’t Sukuna.
“You’re smart, Fushiguro. So… you must be thinking a lot more about these things than I am. I think the way you live your truth is right. But I don’t think I’m wrong either,” Yuji gasped wetly and Megumi remembered the gaping hole in his chest. “Ah… sorry.”
Because of course he would be the one apologising.
“It’s almost time for me. You, Kugisaki… and Gojo-sensei… I don’t need to worry about you guys, right?” Blood dripped from the corners of his lips and Megumi wished he could take the pain away, because no one deserved this, least of all Itadori Yuji. “Live long, will ya?”
And he dropped. Blood pooled all around him and it touched the edges of Megumi’s shoes, staining them.
Yuji was dead.
Except he wasn’t dead.
Two months later, he popped out of a cart that Gojo brought to the tournament with the Kyoto school and he was red-cheeked, bright-eyed, and breathing. There was no hole in his chest, at least not one that Megumi could see, because his uniform covered it and he seemed happy. He was happy but Megumi had spent the last two months mourning his death.
They didn’t even have a chance to catch up because the tournament was about to start so Megumi let it go, leaving his questioning for another time, despite how much he ached to take Yuji’s wrist and press two fingers to his pulse point, just to make sure.
It was way after the event was over, after Megumi had been checked over by Shoko and deemed fine after they extracted the buds from his body and she healed it. He was still sore but he would not be staying in the infirmary when his own room was just across the grounds. The sun was just setting when he set out from the infirmary, shivering in the brisk wind that blew through, ruffling his hair. He wasn’t dressed for this weather at all, wearing a simple black shirt because they had to cut the uniform he was wearing to patch him up.
He almost didn’t see Yuji but there he was, sitting on the steps outside of the boys dormitory building. “Itadori?”
The pink haired boy startled, looking towards Megumi with wide eyes. “Fushiguro,” He breathed, and it was then that Megumi noticed he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and an empty mug was on the step beside him. “Hi.”
“Why are you outside?”
“’S nice. The sunset,” Yuji gestured vaguely to the side. “Cold?”
Megumi hesitated for a second, shuffling his feet. “A little.” He admitted.
All Yuji did was lift one side of the blanket, obviously making space for him, and who was Megumi to deny him. He took two steps forward and settled by his side, their arms pressed together and the blanket now falling over Megumi’s shoulder. Yuji practically radiated warmth and Megumi wanted so badly to just press closer, rest his head on Yuji’s shoulder, lace their fingers together and close his eyes for a second. “I’ve always run warm, but after Sukuna… it’s even more.” He murmured.
“I run cold.” Megumi hummed.
“I know.”
“So where’d you go while you were away pretending you were dead?” Megumi asked, a bitter undertone to his words that he couldn’t stop.
“I wanted to tell you,” Yuji whispered, his voice quieter and more vulnerable than Megumi had ever heard it before. “I promise I – I really really did. It’s the first thing I wanted to do when I woke up on that metal table naked and scared everyone. Ieiri-san was about to dissect me.”
“Why didn’t you?” Megumi questioned desperately.
“Gojo-sensei said… he said we should keep it a secret for a while longer. He didn’t want the higher ups to hear and he wanted to train me to be stronger,” Yuji shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Even if I said no, I don’t think he would have let me tell you and Kugisaki.”
“Of course he did.” Megumi hung his head a little, a huff escaping his lips.
“It – it wasn’t a vacation, if that’s what you think,” Yuji continued hesitantly. “He was training me daily, teaching me about cursed energy and sparring. I got my ass handed to me every day. And… I met Nanamin, went on a mission with him and –” he cut off sharply, inhaling and falling silent.
Megumi spared him a glance, seeing his fists clenched in front of him and his eyes boring into the ground. “And?” he urged gently.
“We fought a special grade,” Yuji muttered, refusing to lift his head, “And –”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“No. I want you to know… it’s just hard,” Yuji’s voice softened and his fists unclenched just a tad. “I… there was someone I met during the mission. A boy. His name was Junpei and – and this curse was using him. But he was a nice guy, quiet… he reminded me of you a little.” Yuji finally looked up, flashing a pained smile at Megumi who hadn’t looked away once.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Yuji breathed, turning away again. “Uhm… we were friends I think. I didn’t know him very long. We liked the same movies, and I met his mother, had dinner with them both. We – he was about to hurt a lot of people at his old school and I went in alone to stop him. We fought and then we talked. His mother died… he was hurting and – and I wanted to help him.”
Yuji’s fists clenched and unclenched. “I asked him to come to here, study with us. But… the special-grade, Mahito, he – he killed him.”
Yuji broke off, bringing one of his knees up to his chest and leaning his arm on it, before he dropped his forehead onto his forearm and sighed, his shoulders shuddering. “Itadori –” Megumi whispered. God, how could he have been so callous? Here he was upset that Yuji had been alive this whole time, calling him names in his head because he hid it meanwhile the boy had been training and saw a friend die. “I –”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Yuji shook his head, his voice muffled from where his mouth was pressed to the fabric of his hoodie. “Please. I’m sick of sorry’s.”
“Okay,” Megumi nodded. “No sorry’s.”
“Thank you.”
Silence fell over them and eventually Yuji lifted his head and Megumi didn’t comment on the tear tracks glimmering on his cheeks, nor his red eyes. They sat there and watched the sun disappear, watched the moon gleam brightly above them and the stars shine in ways they didn’t in the centre of Tokyo.
The day after that, Yuji went back to his normal happy self and Megumi was left wondering whether the previous night’s conversation had even happened, but he knew it was because Yuji shot him a heartfelt smile when they saw each other in the morning. They didn’t have a serious conversation like that until a while after.
Megumi was laying on one of the beds in the infirmary, his wounds having been quite serious after the fight with the special grade. Shoko had healed him but he was still asked to stay the night in the infirmary just to be sure he didn’t overexert himself or anything. It was dark by the time Yuji showed up, poking his pink head through the door, and walking towards Megumi’s bed. They were the only two there.
Megumi didn’t say a word, merely watching as Yuji sat down on a chair beside his bed and let out a weary sigh. “You scared me today.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s going to die young. Not you.” Yuji lifted his head, a forced smile on his face as he tried to make light of the inevitable fate that was assigned to him.
“Don’t – don’t say that.” Megumi swore his heart skipped a beat.
“You know it’s true,” Yuji murmured. “You’re going to live. Get older. Become a famous sorcerer. Maybe get married.”
“Stop –” Megumi shook his head. “Just stop. Don’t – don’t talk like that.”
“Talk like what?”
“Like it’s inevitable.”
“It is inevitable. It’s not a matter of if, Fushiguro, it’s a matter of when.” Yuji shrugged.
“You think we’ll all just stand aside and let you be executed? Our senpai’s, Gojo, Kugisaki… me? You think – you think I’d just let them kill you?” Megumi asked, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.
“You have to. Or they’ll kill you too. Probably,” Yuji sighed. “Maybe not Gojo-sensei, but no one can kill him. You’re… you’re not like that.”
“I’m weak, you mean?”
“You’re… frighteningly human. And humans are fragile. You’re not weak, Fushiguro, because if you’re weak then I’m nothing.”
“Itadori –” Megumi whispered.
“Yuji,” He said, “Call me… call me Yuji.”
“Yuji,” Megumi tested it out, seeing the brief glint of joy in Yuji’s eyes. “Call me Megumi then.”
“Okay,” Yuji nodded. “Megumi.”
And oh the rush of hearing his given name fall from those lips. It felt so much more personal, more intimate. It meant a lot. “You’re not weak, Yuji.”
“No, I am. I don’t mean physically. I’m weak because I couldn’t stop myself from loving people,” He smiled weakly. “I know I’m going to die. it’s inevitable. And yet I love anyways. I love everyone here, and it’s going to hurt when I die, more now because I let myself love.”
“Ever think about how the people you leave behind are going to feel?” Megumi asked. “You control your own feelings, your own love, but what about us?”
“What about you?”
“It’s going to hurt us if you die. Ever think about that?”
“In the grand scheme of things, I don’t matter that much,” Yuji brushed it off. “You’ll forget me eventually.”
“How can you say that?” Megumi inhaled sharply, his fingers closing into a fist by his side. “I can’t just forget you, I – Don’t say that.”
“Megumi –”
“No. You – you always do this, you brush off your own feelings and assume no one cares, assume you’re just another person to us. You assume we don’t care. But I do care. I care so fucking much it’s going to rip me apart and I – I can’t even stop because I’m in too deep. I’m drowning,” He said softly. “I’m drowning, Yuji.”
“I’ll pull you out.”
“You can’t. No one can. There’s a rope right there and I’m not using it. I – I can’t not care about you. Do you understand that? I’ve been drowning since I asked Gojo to save you because I was too fucking selfish to let you die. Because you intrigued me. I didn’t want to let you die, even though I knew your fate might be worse, because I’m selfish and I want you.”
There was a gentle touch on Megumi’s hand and he looked down to see Yuji’s own hand pushing the fingers open and lacing their fingers together the same way he himself had wanted that time when they were sitting outside watching the sunset.
“You’re not selfish,” Yuji said gently, his eyes on their joined hands, running his thumb over Megumi’s knuckles. “You’re the least selfish person I know.”
“How am I not selfish?” Megumi pleaded for an answer. “I – I doomed you to this… to forming bonds and relationships with people only for it all to be ripped away because you won’t fight back against your fate.”
“If you were selfish, you would have acted on your wants. But you didn’t. You’re selfless. You don’t want it to hurt either of us more than it already has,” Yuji shook his head. “You didn’t doom me to anything. It was my choice from the moment I ate the first finger, my choice from the moment I said I’d live to eat all the fingers. My choice. It was my choice to delay my death because I wanted to die a meaningful death.”
“You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.” Megumi whispered reverently.
“What will you do? Kill all the higher-ups?” Yuji teased, finally meeting Megumi’s eyes, and seeing a determined gleam in them.
“If that’s what I have to do, then I’ll do it.”
“Why?”
“I told you, I’m selfish.” Megumi cracked a smile.
“And I told you, you’re not selfish. You’re selfless. You care. That doesn’t make you selfish.”
“You’re the stupid selfless one.” Megumi grumbled.
“Can’t help it,” Yuji shrugged, plastering a smile on his face but this one seemed a little more genuine. “I want to help people. Give their deaths a meaning at the very least.”
“You’ll –” Megumi broke off. “You’ll hurt yourself helping people so much, throwing yourself into situations with little to no regard for your life.”
“You’re a hypocrite,” Yuji muttered hoarsely, bringing their joined hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss to Megumi’s knuckles. “You do the same thing,” Megumi couldn’t even respond, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Yuji met his eyes once more and his smile widened. “You look pretty when you blush.”
“Yuji –” Megumi’s mouth dropped open a little and Yuji huffed out a laugh.
“It’s true,” he admitted, shrugging. “You’re pretty, Megumi.”
“Aren’t pretty girls your type?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Tall girls with big asses are my type. And tall guys with dark hair and light eyes who look pretty when they blush are also my type.”
“I don’t think I have a type,” Megumi said. “Just you. You’re my type.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Megumi nodded before he tugged on Yuji’s arm. “Come sit next to me.”
“Next to you? is there space? This bed’s tiny!”
“We’ll make it work.”
“Okay.”
Megumi scooted to the side and left a space on the side of the bed for Yuji to sit after he took his shoes off. He waited until the pink haired boy was leaning back against the pillow, legs under the blankets before he let himself rest his head on Yuji’s shoulder and close his eyes. He left them closed even when he felt Yuji take his hand and lace their fingers together again. He left them closed when he felt the brush of a kiss on his forehead and Yuji leaning his head against Megumi’s.
“It’s okay if you’re selfish,” Yuji murmured. “We can be selfish together.”