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Under the cover of the bright neon lights of night, it is easy for Fushiguro Megumi to blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed.
Of all the places that Megumi has lived during his time as a vampire, he's found that he vastly prefers living in cities. The constant thrum of people provide a surprising sense of anonymity, allowing him to go wherever and whenever he pleases. Plus, it helps that there's usually someone out there who is doing something weirder than him, letting him slip through mostly unnoticed.
No one's going to look twice at a man in a white doctor's coat and a backpack when there's so many tourists and cosplayers filling the streets. No one's going to look twice at him as he enters a known-for-nothing dance club and makes his way to the even lesser known fighting ring that lives underneath.
Jujutsu Ring is busy today. Its seats are crowded with people and even more are standing around the edges, trying to get a good view of the fight. The open second floor is also filled with people, these ones much calmer than those below them, and dressed like they're important. They're usually men with too much money and time on their hands and are trying to use them to gain some sort of power, while others are simply the ones in charge of the fighters that serve as entertainment.
A fight is currently in progress but Megumi couldn't guess either of their names. As one of Jujutsu Ring's resident medics, he gets so many fighters coming in and out of his office that it's easier to just fix them up, take some blood, and move on to the next patient without getting attached. One or both of them will end up being carted his way in the next five minutes regardless, so he just rolls his eyes and keeps walking through.
"Fushiguro."
He sighs, stopping in his tracks as he unfortunately recognizes that voice. Of the two owners, though, he would much rather deal with this one instead of his partner.
"What is it, Getou?" He asks.
"Shoko called earlier, said she had an emergency and she couldn't come in today." He gives Megumi a glance that is almost concerned but is otherwise neutral. "Do you think you'll be able to handle today on your own?"
Megumi huffs. "It's not like it'll be my first time managing solo. I have been doing this for years now. You can tell Gojo to stop worrying about me."
Getou shakes his head, his mouth tilting up ever so slightly. "You know how he is. He's the reason you were turned, after all, so forgive him if he wants to make sure you aren't being overworked."
He doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. Megumi only nods and starts to turn away, eager to set his stuff down and relax a bit before he has to get to work, but Getou stops him again.
"Oh, by the way, you have some patients waiting for you. One of them even asked for you by name."
"Which one?"
"The pink haired one," Getou replies. "The younger one, not his older brother. They came in about ten minutes ago and he was asking for you. He looked like he could use your expertise."
Megumi ignores the way he nearly perks up at the mention of that certain fighter. Despite what he said earlier, that might be the one exception to the rule, the one fighter he's ever gotten close to in all the years he's worked here. It wasn't intentional, but by the time he noticed, Megumi found that he didn't mind all that much.
He glances to see if Getou noticed his reaction and, judging by the slight smirk on his face, he did. It's a good thing Megumi hasn't had any blood recently or he's sure there would be a blush rising on his face. He settles for a glare instead. Getou only chuckles as he pulls a box of cigarettes from one of his many pockets and gestures for Megumi to leave.
"Go on, I'm sure that you would much rather be somewhere else."
He huffs again but does as he was told, making his way to the medical bay. Luckily, no one else stops him and by the time he reaches the double doors, he's composed himself again. He pushes on in.
The only conscious patient looks up from where he was looking through the various things on the counter. An easy grin stretches his face as his hand raises in a familiar greeting when he sees Megumi enter. If Megumi's heart could beat regularly, he knows it would skip one at the sight. He only falters as his eyes focus on the onjury that mares his cheek, made worse by his grin.
"Yo, Fushiguro! It's been a while."
It hasn't, actually. Megumi last saw Itadori Yuuji not even forty-eight hours ago to check him up after his las match. He only looks a little better now than he did then.
"It should've been longer," Megumi says. He puts his backpack down in the corner by the cabinets. "You really should stop getting hurt so often. Even with your faster than average healing, there's only so many scars your face can take."
Itadori reaches a hand up to brush against one of the twin scars beneath his eyes. They're small, angular crescents that were crudely healed from some incident in his past. Megumi has yet to hear the full story about them and it seems today won't be the day. Itadori just continues to smile and brushes him off.
"Careful, there, Fushiguro. It almost sounds like you're worried about me."
Megumi scoffs half heartedly. "As if. Now, get on a table so I can look at your face."
Itadori doesn't move, only raises his eyebrows with a playful expression.
"You know what I mean."
He listens this time, jumping onto one of the empty tables that serve as medical cots. As he does, the collar of Itadori's white shirt, stretched out way beyond shape, dips dangerously low to expose his collarbones at the same time one side of his sleeveless red zip-up slips off one shoulder. Megumi has to make an effort not to follow the movement with his eyes, not to look at the exposed skin and to instead focus on the injury on Itadori's face.
"What happened this time?" It's a shallow cut, hardly longer than a fingernail, surrounded by the beginnings of a bruise. It'll be gone in a few days, but it's still concerning nonetheless. Megumi has an idea of who gave it to him.
Itadori shrugs and chuckles. "It was nothing, just a bit of an alley fight, is all."
"An alley fight or another disagreement with Sukuna?"
Itadori doesn't respond, instead choosing to play with the zipper of his jacket. That's enough of an answer. Megumi walks away to get some things from the counter.
"You have to stop letting him do this to you."
When he turns back around, Megumi is met with a glare.
"I don't let him do this," Itadori tries to defend. "He's my older brother. It's... complicated."
"Complicated is a lot of things, but it's not the face that your brother has a tendency to hit you when he gets upset."
He might be overstepping here, but, if he's being honest, he doesn't like seeing Itadori hurt. It's inevitable, given where he chooses to spend his nights. But there's still no good reason for Sukuna to be adding to that just because Yuuji fights under his name.
Megumi doesn't know much about the Itadori brothers. He's not sure anyone really does, not even Gojo and Getou. Sukuna has been a presence around here for years but everyone knew of his reputation from the streets as soon as he first walked through the doors. But as long as he didn't bring any unwanted attention, Gojo let him stay.
And so far, he hasn't. He's mostly stayed on the second floor with the other powerful people, making deals and exchanging money and drugs. But he never made a deal he couldn't control and he never enlisted a fighter under his own name.
That is, until he brought in Yuuji.
The resemblance was obvious from the start. They both share the same pink hair, the same sharp jawline, and the same under eye scars. But Sukuna has a few years on Yuuji and that, combined with his facial tattoos and overall intimidating presence, made him all the more different from his younger brother. It helped that Yuuji instead had a kind face and a bubbly personality that tended to draw people in instead of pushing them away.
Which made it all the more surprising when he first stepped into the ring and knocked the other guy out in three punches.
The Itadori brothers only got more well known from there. Yuuji won more fights than he lost, an impressive amount for a then-nineteen year old kid who came out of nowhere. He quickly climbed the ranks to being one of the most watched and betted on fighters at Jujutsu Ring. And Sukuna was far too eager to use Yuuji's success for his own advantage, whatever that may be.
But, aside from that, Megumi doesn't actually know how Yuuji got into fighting, whether it was his own choice or not. When he first saw Yuuji in the beginning, he didn't seem to comfortable with all these people and, despite being related, he never followed Sukuna up to the second floor. He clearly seemed to know a couple things about hand-to-hand combat, so he wasn't coming in completely blind. It was still a mystery, though.
Sometimes, though, when they're talking while Megumi is treating him, he gets a glimpse of a kid who maybe had bigger dreams than slumming it around an underground fighting ring. Yuuji talks so highly of his hobbies or interests or the latest manga he's been reading, but he's never once implied that he wanted to be doing this for the rest of his life.
"You wouldn't understand, Fushiguro. We're family. He's the last–" Itadori stops, cutting himself off with a cough that doesn't sound entirely real. Megumi is aware enough to recognize when he may have crossed a line so he backs off.
He stands back in front of Itadori with a cotton ball and two butterfly bandages in hand.
"Okay, you're right. I don't understand." He carefully swipes the antiseptic covered cotton ball over the wound and places the bandages in the right spot. He uses the other side of the cotton call to poke Itadori in the forehead to punctuate his next words. "But that doesn't dispute the fact that I still think you shouldn't be here. You should be out there with the rest of the world having a good life instead of wasting it fighting in here."
Itadori rolls his eyes, something like pain flashing there but it's gone too quickly to tell. Another small grin works its way onto his face. "You tell me that every week."
"And yet every week, you come right back in."
"Besides," Itadori continues, like Megumi never said anything, "it's not like you're one to talk. You're practically the same age as me and you were here before I was."
He's technically not wrong but their situations are vastly different. Megumi is a vampire that turned only a couple decades ago, while Yuuji is still a young human with his whole life ahead of him. Their situations can't really be compared. It's too complicated. When he opens his mouth to say as much, he's distracted by the way Itadori's grin has spread over his face, verging on shit eating.
"Let me guess," he says, smirking, "it's complicated."
Megumi scowls, flicking his patient on the forehead. He grabs Itadori's chin, missing the way Itadori's eyes widen, in order to better tilt him into the light to make sure the bandages are in the right place. Satisfied, he nods to himself and lets go, standing up.
"You're all set for now. Try not to end up back here in the next ten minutes for a new one."
"No promises, Fushiguro!" Itadori stands up and makes his way to the door. Right before he pushes them open, he turns around and beams a smile back at Megumi. "Wish me luck!"
Megumi gives him a wave instead and Itadori eagerly responds with one of his own before leaving. He does end up wishing him luck, just not where Itadori can hear.
With Itadori gone, Megumi casts a look around at the unconscious fighters on the other tables. One of the perks of this jerk was that he was allowed to take a pint of blood from whoever and whenever. The only rules were that they had to be unconscious and he couldn't take enough to put them in danger. Only what he needed, nothing more.
That was fine by Megumi. Getting blood for him was easy enough, he only needed a couple pints every few weeks. It was Gojo and Getou that were worrying at times. When they weren't luring unsuspecting people from bars, they had Shoko getting blood from fighters, too. They had to develop a system to make sure they didn't accidentally drain from the same person twice. A lesson they learned the hard way.
He glances at the clock. The fight he walked in on should be finished, which means they'll be bringing in the loser any second now. The winner may need to be patched up as well. And then once they're done, Megumi will be able to take a few pints from those in here. He's been running low on blood lately and could do with a refill.
He just has to wait for the coast to be clear.
Yuuji has been feeling restless all day.
He doesn't know why. He just woke up with the feeling that something was going to happen today. Maybe that's why he was quicker to rise to Sukuna's taunts than usual, more eager to put a fight instead of saving his energy for the ring. If only he had dodged that last punch in time.
Getting to see Fushiguro helped calm his nerves. If he could, he would spend all his time with Fushiguro, even if it meant having to get up close with other people's injuries. Fushiguro was the one good thing about fighting at Jujutsu Ring, about having to stay with Sukuna after the accident. He's so glad they became closer. He doesn't know what he would do without him.
Unfortunately, his match was going to start soon and, after getting a bandage that he really didn't need but would always accept from Fushiguro, he left. Sukuna was already pissed at him for their fight earlier, he didn't need to add fuel to the fire by being late to his first match of the night.
It's with great reluctance that Yuuji slides into the seat next to his brother.
"Nice of you to finally join, brat."
Yuuji doesn't feel like talking to his brother, so he simply nods his acknowledgement. Meanwhile, his mind circles back to Fushiguro. He swears he can still feel the phantom touch of his hands on his skin, ghosting over the wound on his cheek and holding his chin in place in a way that made his heart beat wildly.
He doesn't know when he first started to get feelings for Fushiguro, when they started to get this intense. He's not sure if they grew in him slowly or if they came at him all at once. But what he knows for sure is that there's something that's drawn Yuji to Fushiguro since the start. He's pretty sure they're the closest thing he has to a friend again. And he's pretty sure that Fushiguro is more fond of him than he's letting in, but he has no way to prove it.
Yuuji's type of women has always been tall with a big ass. But his type of man is tall, dark haired, and mysterious. And Fushiguro Megumi happens to check off all those boxes.
He's been debating asking him out. Yuuji's been thinking of ways to talk to him outside of this building, but nothing he came up with ever seemed good enough. It doesn't help that he's sure if Fushiguro would actually say yes if he asked, or if he even likes men.
But maybe this is why Yuuji is feeling restless today. It could be his mind's way of telling him to go for it. That today is the day.
After the match, he decides. If he wins, then he'll take that as a sign to ask Fushiguro out.
A hand cuffs him on the back of the head and brings him out of his thoughts.
"Ow, what the hell?"
Yuuji reaches a hand to grab at the spot, more out of instinct than any sort of pain. He looks at the source, where Sukuna is now standing next to him with a glare on his face.
"Where are your gloves?"
"My what?"
Sukuna rolls his eyes. He reaches down and pulls Yuuji up to a stand by the front of his shirt, ignoring his younger brother's protests.
"Your gloves, idiot. They're about to start your match and you're missing the only thing I left you in charge of."
Yuuji jerks his body away from Sukuna's grasp. He glances at his hands, genuinely surprised to only see them wrapped without his usual red boxing gloves. He knows he had them when he first came in here and when he stopped by the medical bay. But he was so caught up in Fushiguro that he must've forgotten to pick them back up when he left.
"Shit."
He takes off without any further warning, ignoring Sukuna's voice as it angrily calls out to him not to be late. It takes him no time to reach the double doors he left not even five minutes ago but he's surprised to find that they're locked. He jiggles the handle one more time before deciding fuck it, he'll apologize to Fushiguro and whoever has to fix the doors properly later.
The doorknob gets crushed in his hand and he pushes open the door, apologies slipping from his lips as he looks around the room for his gloves.
"I'm so sorry, Fushiguro, but I think I left my–"
The words die on his lips as he finally catches sight of Fushiguro.
Fushiguro, who's in the middle of wrapping up a patient's injury.
Fushigurp, who's standing above said unconscious patient with his mouth wrapped around a blood bag, drinking from it like a juice box.
The two of them stare at each other, neither saying a thing as Yuuji realizes that maybe this is why he was feeling restless today. The bag slips from Fushiguro's mouth and Yuuji's match is announced but both the ness and any outside noise melts into the background as everything between these two changes for good.