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fushiguro stared at himself in the mirror he had propped up against the wall, shirtless and frowning. he ran his hands against his scars. first were the ones he obtained through battle and fighting curses. he still vividly remembered and felt the ones when he had thorns impaled through him from the sister-school goodwill event. it was mostly healed, and even if the memory was still there, the pain wasn’t.
then there were the ones from when he first met itadori where he stupidly ate a finger. as imprudent as he thought it was, fushiguro couldn’t help but fall in love with him from the very first second he laid eyes on him. he smiled softly to himself. now that idiotic fool was his boyfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. he was loved, and he loved him.
then he touched the scars he got from when his idiotic fool of a boyfriend died to a thousands-of-years old wretched cursed spirit. his smile disappeared. the fight was brutal and scarring, but he survived, and so did itadori. but even if he did survive, fushiguro still cried to it at night. he watched his first love die in front of him, and he prayed to whatever god would pity him enough to listen that he would never have to experience it again.
lastly were his surgery scars. he had it right when he turned fifteen. gojo had surprised him with it for his birthday. fushiguro hadn’t outwardly asked gojo from it, but seeing him struggle with his identity and pretend that it was okay was enough for gojo to do something about it. so he took him to the doctor’s to set up a date for the surgery and to prescribe some testosterone pills. fushiguro would never admit it, but he loved gojo as if he were his own father, and he was sure he felt the same. to this day, he still talks about the way fushiguro’s eyes lit up when he surprised him with it, and his eyes did light up. it was the happiest moment of his life. a part of him was stripped away from him, and that was all he ever wanted.
that was a year ago, and he was sixteen now, but fushiguro megumi still never felt like a boy. he looked like one, he “acted” like one, he was a boy, it was clear as day. but no matter what people thought, he couldn’t feel that way internally. everyday, his reflection showed him with long hair, a pretty dress, and the chest he once had. it hurt, it hurt more than anything. whether it be in the bathroom mirror or the glass of a nearby store, his past self haunted him like a ghost. she was beautiful, and he despised her.
but sometimes he wondered if he truly did. fushiguro hated the idea of being associated with her with his entire being. the very sight of her made him sick, his stomach churning with hatred. but he could never say that he truly hated her. she used to be him, she was him. she was the kid who caught ladybugs and named them after his favorite foods, she was the kid that couldn’t figure out how to multiply by nine until she was ten, she was the kid who loved and loved and loved with everything she had, she was the kid that grew up to be fushiguro megumi. how could he ever hate her, she’s lovely. but even so, fushiguro couldn’t bear to look at her. their hearts were the same, beating and alive, but their souls weren't, torn and blurred.
“megumi!” itadori called out from the hallway as he knocked. “you awake?”
fushiguro hurriedly put his clothes on, taking one last look at the mirror. there she was, beautiful and poised. he turned the mirror around.
“good morning, yuuji,” fushiguro said as he walked out.
“good morning!” itadori planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “how did you sleep?”
truth be told, he didn’t sleep at all. he tried to, but he couldn’t. he was a jujutsu sorcerer, not a civilian. he was human, but he wasn’t normal.
but he couldn’t say that, not to his lovely boyfriend; so he just lied. “fine. how about you?”
itadori beamed at his response. “me too! oh i had this dream, and oh my god, it was crazy, like it was insane! you were in it, and so was kugisaki and gojo, and there was this huge dragon that could breathe fire and ice….”
fushiguro smiled. he could listen to itadori all day. but even at a precious time like this, nothing in the world could stop his mind from wandering to places they shouldn’t be. but they did, and he couldn’t stop it. he frowned.
𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲?
-
breakfast was over, and the trio had left to go exorcise a curse that dwelled in an abandoned amusement park. it had taken up their entire day, but in the end, they successfully drove it out, and just like always, itadori bowed.
“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his face twisted with sorrow. “i’m sorry.”
itadori always apologized for his actions, and although fushiguro didn’t understand it, he found it endearing. itadori had a heart, a beating, flowering heart. he was kind and polite. he held more sympathy than the course of nature, he was the epitome of peace. he was everything fushiguro was not, and he was okay with that; he had to be.
itadori was too good for him, fushiguro knew that better than anyone. but even if he was the sun that was burning his wings, even if he was the siren that hypnotized sailors, fushiguro could never let go of him. he was the moon in an eclipse, shielding the sun from the world. but hidden or not, itadori was a force that could never be contained. he shined brighter than anybody, even behind the moon. itadori was too good for him, but he could never see fushiguro as any less than him. fushiguro could only wonder why. with a mind like his and a body he reluctantly possessed, what was there to admire?
“yo, you okay?” itadori asked, brushing the dirt off his uniform. “you’re kinda spacing out, you’re not hurt, are you? we can watch the movie some other night.”
fushiguro shook his head. “no, i’m just tired, we can still watch it.”
“you sure? you can rest if you want, we’ll just watch it some other time.”
“no, it’s fine. i’m okay.”
with a gentle smile, itadori kissed fushiguro with the softness of the sun. “good.”
kugisaki rolled her eyes and gagged. “ugh, get a room, you two.”
itadori huffed and stuck his tongue out at her. “shut up, you and maki-senpai are even worse than us!”
the two bickered back and forth, claiming that their partner was superior. it eventually ended with fushiguro having to break them up before they started to strangle each other.
in all honesty, hearing itadori so passionately and openly talk about him filled his heart with joy. fushiguro was happy, he was extremely, undeniably happy. this was all he ever wanted, he had everything a jujustu sorcerer like him was able to have. he had great friends, a wonderful partner, good grades, he had it all.
so why wasn’t it enough? no matter what, it was never enough. there was nothing that could satisfy his selfish heart. fushiguro’s chest ached. it burned and crackled, like the embers of a forest fire. the feelings he had, the memories he was burned with were too much. it was destructive and dangerous. he hoped to extinguish it, to keep it under covers. from the first trace of fire to the lingering scent of smoke, he hoped and hoped and hoped, like the kid who loved and loved and loved, to be free of such volatile emotions.
𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨.
-
a week had gone by, and everyday, fushiguro stood before his mirror, shirtless and frowning. some days weren’t that bad, he could live with the knowledge of his past life, it didn’t even phase him. but some days were worse, and the very thought of her could lead to a mental crisis. today was one of those days, this entire week was. if he were a normal high school student, maybe he could’ve stayed at home and slept in or watched his favorite show. he could’ve done anything and everything to feel okay again.
but he wasn’t one, and he never would be. having to deal with others, worry about his agility and strength, and fight cursed spirits only weakened his already heavy soul. luckily, today was his day off, so instead of worrying about getting ready, fushiguro just put his shirt back on, turned the mirror around, and went back to sleep. as he slipped back into slumber, he could only wonder what could’ve been.
𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲. 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.
-
when fushiguro awoke, it was already three in the afternoon. he wondered why nobody had woken him up. with a yawn and a stretch, he walked out of his room, only to be greeted by an itadori that was about to knock on his door.
“oh, you’re awake!” itadori’s smile was so bright, so lively. “i was wondering if you wanted to go get some lunch! there’s this new cafe that opened up a few blocks away, and i was thinking that we could have a date!”
seeing the adamant joy in his lover’s eyes washed away any worries he harbored; well, almost. no matter what, they were still there.
but when he was with itadori, they became tolerable and much more manageable. it was as if they were never there, and even if they were, it didn’t matter. as long as itadori was with him, he was going to be fine.
fushiguro smiled and kissed itadori’s cheek. “i’d love to.”
he never knew love could be this soft, this cherishable. he hoped to have this kind of love for all eternity.
𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢 𝐚𝐦, 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.
-
their date went well, ending with taking some pastries and desserts back to school for the others. as nightfall came, itadori and fushiguro just hung out in fushiguro’s room, doing their own thing and simply just enjoying each other’s company. it was quiet, but also calming and comforting, like a cozy blanket.
“i’m gonna go take a shower,” itadori said, “is it ok if i stay the night?”
fushiguro nodded. “i’ll go take one after you.”
itadori quickly showers and walks back to fushiguro’s room.
“that was quick-” fushiguro’s jaw drops. his boyfriend was shirtless right in front of him. water dripping from his hair onto his scarred but beautiful chest, he looked unbelievably good. but instead of feeling aroused, he just got sad. why couldn’t he look like that? why didn’t he have those qualities? why did he have to be born a girl?
“i forgot a shirt,” itadori answered as he wiped the water off with a towel.
fushiguro didn’t say a word as he watched itadori put his clothes on, a churning sensation pooling in the very depths of his stomach.
itadori kissed softly fushiguro and laid down on his bed. “you can go ahead, i’ll just be reading some manga.”
fushiguro nodded. his chest ached. what was wrong with him? how could he possibly be feeling so much malice towards his own lover? he was a terrible, terrible person, he didn’t deserve itadori in the slightest.
fushiguro quickly left the room before he burst into tears, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from exploding. though, he didn’t know why. he wasn’t much of a crier, and when he was, he refused to let anybody see him. so why did he leave in such a rush? he asked himself this, but deep down he knew. if he had stayed any longer, he would’ve been able to keep going. he would’ve look at itadori with hatred and envy in his eyes, he would’ve tried to rip his lover’s soul out from him and replace his own with it, he would’ve let his own erratic emotions spill out until there was nothing left but a relationship that could never be fixed. fushiguro would’ve loved itadori with a knife in his hand.
once he got into the shower, he looked down at his own body. the testosterone medication did wonders for him, he looked like a boy, but still, it wasn’t enough. even with the surgery, it wasn’t enough. he so desperately wished he was born as a boy, but he wasn’t, and it was killing him inside more than he would ever admit to the world.
he ran his hand over his chest. smooth turned into scarred, the cuts of the surgery burning the tips of his fingers. that surgery was the best thing that ever happened to him, but that fact that he had to get surgery to look the way he did, to feel comfortable in his own body and skin ruined him. fushiguro was never going to be a real boy.
𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.
-
fushiguro stayed in the shower longer than he wanted, afraid to face itadori. his own feelings were getting out of hand, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them anymore. all he could do was keep them in that little glass jar in his heart and hope that it would never get out.
begrudgingly, he headed back to his room, towel around his neck and head down low. he loved itadori, so why couldn’t he just act like it?
“hey, you’re back!” itadori beamed as he sat up. “i was reading this manga and oh my god, it’s so good! there was this fight scene, and it was the coolest thing ever, like…”
fushiguro sat down next to itadori as he rambled on about his favorite manga, his words full of joy and childish nature. this was fushiguro’s favorite thing, but he found it hard to listen, to pay attention. there was a weight on his chest, a burden that strangled him, suffocating him. he was certainly the worst.
“hey,” itadori said, “you ok? you seem out of it.”
fushiguro didn’t say a word, his eyes fixated on the floor beneath him. it was getting heavier and heavier, bringing him down. it hurt, it stung, it burned, and he just let it.
a warm, rough hand held his soft and dainty one. “i’m here for you, megumi, always, so please, talk to me.”
but he couldn’t, he couldn’t even open his mouth. he didn’t move, he felt like he was dying, and maybe he was, but deep down, fushiguro knew better; he wasn’t dying, he just wished that he was.
then, that same calloused hand gently grabbed his face, and fushiguro felt tears stream down his face. the same eyes that confessed to him that day was looking at him now with a worry that shattered the earth.
“i love you,” itadori whispered, kissing a tear away, “please don’t shut me out. talk to me, megumi, please.”
fushiguro listened. he brought itadori closer to him, embracing him like the world depended on it. it was warm and loving, but in a way that felt like he was being stabbed a billion times over and over again. itadori loved him, and fushiguro could only wonder why.
he cried and cried and cried into itadori’s arms. this heavy burden only got heavier, and the longer he was in his lover’s arms, the more it weighed him down.
“it’s ok, megumi,” itadori consoled in the softest voice, “i’m here for you, it’s gonna be ok. let it all out, it’s ok.”
but was it okay? itadori was nothing but sweet and gentle to him, and here, fushiguro was thinking of all sorts of vile and disgusting thoughts. he didn’t hate him, he could never; fushiguro was jealous. he was jealous that itadori would never been seen as a girl, he was jealous that itadori was born a real boy, he was jealous that itadori never had to try to become a boy, he was jealous that itadori was able to love with such open arms, especially to someone like him. itadori was too good for him, fushiguro didn’t deserve him.
itadori let go of and moved away from fushiguro, his hands holding his. “talk to me, megumi, what’s wrong?”
fushiguro gazed into itadori’s eyes, eyes coated with love and kindness. he saw himself in them, itadori was always looking at him like that, with a beautiful and touching love that poets could only write about.
“i’m sorry,” fushiguro said, “i’m sorry, yuuji.”
itadori hugged him again and pat his back. “don’t be, it’s not your fault.”
“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”
“it’s ok, it’s not your fault.”
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s ok.”
“i’m so sorry.”
“it’s ok, everything’s ok.”
“i’m sorry.” fushiguro cried his eyes out, his hands clinging onto itadori’s shirt as if he were begging for him to not let him go, to not be mad; but that was a foolish thought in itself because itadori could never be mad at him.
“why are you sorry?” itadori asked as he moved back, holding and caressing fushiguro’s hand. he was so kind, so nice to him.
“because,” fushiguro sobbed out, “i’m the worst.”
“and why do you think that?” no matter how delirious or senseless fushiguro sounded, itadori didn’t get mad or upset in the slightest. he just listened with his whole heart.
and knowing that made fushiguro feel worse. “i was mad at you in my head. seeing your body just set me off.”
“what do you mean?” itadori asked, his voice never changing or wavering.
“when i saw yours, it just made me yearn for what i can’t have even more.i’ve been feeling so awful lately with my body, and every time i see it, i feel like ripping my skin off. i wish i was a real boy, i wish i was born a real boy, why can’t i be a real boy?”
fushiguro cried his eyes and heart out, his soul shaking and quivering with anxiety. he really was the worst.
“megumi…” itadori pulled away and wiped away fushiguro’s tears. “you are a real boy.”
fushiguro didn’t respond, he just stared at itadori in disbelief. how could he believe him? he wasn’t a real boy and never would be. somehow, his words just made him angrier.
a single tear escaped from fushiguro’s midnight eyes, and itadori kissed it away. “megumi, i mean it. you are a real boy. you always have been-”
“easy for you to say!” fushiguro shouted with his whole chest, his scarred chest.
“megumi-”
fushiguro, with his delicate, shaky hands, grabbed hold of itadori’s shoulders, clutching them tightly. “you were born with that body, you were born with it! nobody has ever looked at you and even questioned your gender, you were just born like that! me, i had to work to become like this, and it’s still not enough! it will never be enough as long as i’m like this!”
fushiguro felt his hands falter and loosen off itadori’s shoulders, like he was losing hope, like he was giving up. he was tired, so very tired. “it will never be enough.”
neither of them said a word. what were you supposed to say? neither of them knew. fushiguro just kept crying, and itadori sat there and watched him. he wished he could do more, he wished he could give fushiguro what he wanted, what he needed; but he never could, and he never will.
but he could at least try. “i know that i will never have to go through what you’re going through, but i want you to know that you are a real boy, no matter what.”
fushiguro just looked up at itadori with lifeless eyes. if he had the energy, he’d say something, he’d object.
itadori kept going. “i know that it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. body shape and type does not define a man, or any gender for that matter. and i’m sure you know that because you’re amazing and wonderful, and you’re the smartest person i know.”
fushiguro’s deep-blue eyes suddenly felt less lifeless. what itadori was saying was working.
“but i get that it’s still hard to believe, even if you know otherwise. it’s scary not feeling comfortable in your skin, not knowing who you are, constantly questioning yourself. trust me, i get it, i have a literal demonic entity living inside me.”
itadori prayed that sukuna wouldn’t come out and ruin the moment, and he didn’t. he thankfully had manners despite being dead for thousands of years.
fushiguro giggled and wiped a tear away. he was smiling again, and it was beautiful.
itadori smiled as well. “i know that it’s hard and i know that nothing i say can fully make that feeling go away. but please…”
soft and warm, he kissed fushiguro with a love only the moon and stars know of. it was pure and gentle like the first sunrise of spring.
parting away, itadori caressed fushiguro’s cheek, admiring everything about him. he gave him a quick peck on his forehead and held him in his arms.
“please don’t shut me out, alright? i want to help, i want to comfort you. i love you, megumi, and i would do anything in the world for you to realize that you’re amazing. you are real, you are human, and you are a boy, a beautiful, wonderful boy that i love more than anything.”
a voice in fushiguro’s head told him itadori was lying, that he was just saying that out of pity. but what control did that voice have over him when his lover’s voice was his favorite sound? for the first time in so long, fushiguro felt like a boy, a real one.
fushiguro kissed itadori, smiling into the kiss. “thanks, yuuji, you’re the best. i love you.”
itadori huffed. “well, i love you more.”
fushiguro let out an airy laugh. “it isn’t a competition, and even if it was, i would win.”
“yeah right, i love you more than you ever could.”
“no, i love you more.”
“nope, i love you more.”
“no, i do.”
itadori let out another huff. “no, i do, i love you more than gojo-sensei loves himself!”
“wha- i-” instead of arguing back, fushiguro just laughed and rolled his eyes. “ok, whatever you say.”
itadori pumped his fists in the air. “hah, so i win!”
“wha- i never said that!”
throughout all the laughing and friendly bantering, fushiguro caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the mirror. it was her. she was smiling. she had never done that before. she was smiling. it was small, but it was there. with her beautiful, long black hair and shimmering eyes, she waved goodbye and faded away, her smile being the last thing fushiguro saw.
“you okay?” itadori asked.
maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. she was just like him, confused and full of love. she was just like him. for the first time, fushiguro found her beautiful without any hatred, because she was beautiful; she was just like him.
fushiguro smiled. “yeah, couldn’t be better."