Archive of Our Own ^beta

Megumi can no longer sleep alone. The darkness that comes with the shift from evening to night makes him nauseous, especially if he’s on his own. 

His first night back on campus has quickly turned into a disaster. His room, blackened by shadows that turned the walls to ink, felt far too familiar for his taste; a pitch-black void of nothingness to surround him as he remained confined inside his own body.

Itadori found him collapsed on his bedroom floor, trembling.

“I know, I know,” he murmured as he ran a comforting hand down Megumi’s back. “He always makes it too dark.”

Megumi has tried not to think about the way he’d grabbed onto Itadori in that moment in the days since. His fingers had scratched thin pink lines down Itadori’s arms with how desperately he’d clung to him, afraid his friend would slip away into the shadows if they were separated.

He had needed to know that Itadori was real. That Megumi was real, himself. That he was there, present with Itadori in the real world.

Flesh and blood, skin and bone; no longer a mere heart and soul suppressed.

He’d fallen asleep with his head on Itadori’s lap that night. Exhaustion had overcome his fear, and he’d passed out with his hands still fisted in Itadori’s shirt. 

Upon waking the next morning, he found himself on the floor with a warm body beneath him. The bright light that filled the room was startling enough to have Megumi groaning into Itadori’s stomach as he turned away from the overhead light. Itadori must have turned it on when he’d rushed in the night before.

The sound of hoarse snoring drags Megumi’s attention back to the slumbering form beneath him. His breath catches at the sight of Itadori sleeping soundly.

He’s here. He’s still with me. He didn’t leave me.

Megumi watches Itadori sleep with bleary eyes. He can’t look away, entranced by the sight of the stubborn, kindhearted boy who had refused to give up on him.

“I can’t ask you to live… but… but, it’s so lonely without you, Fushiguro.”

Megumi swallows. The memory of Itadori’s anguished words stirs the muscle between his ribs.

His eyes flit over Itadori’s face taking in his touseled hair, his tired eyes, his firm mouth, and his strong chin. The scars that had ravaged his skin during the Shinjuku battle have been healed, but Megumi can still picture them. Half of his face had been marred by Sukuna in the fight, bloody and raw as he went toe-to-toe with the king of curses.

My fault, the thought comes unbidden to Megumi’s head. He dismisses it with a shake of his head, embarrassed to think something so conceited. No, all of that wasn’t just for me. He was going to fight Sukuna no matter what. I just happened to be the hostage he took.

Itadori’s nose twitches, but he doesn’t wake. It only makes Megumi melt further. Despite everything, he’s still here. I can’t believe that I’m looking at him. That we made it.

Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, but Megumi doesn’t dare to risk looking away. It’s a gift to be able to lie here and look at Itadori as much as he pleases. He refuses to waste it.

Megumi loses track of how much time has passed when Itadori finally rouses from his slumber. He stretches the sleep from his muscles, and Megumi feels the line of his body shift against his own.

It was movement. Motion. Weight. Proof that Itadori was real.

He’d wanted Itadori for so long he’d convinced himself he could never have something like this. Someone like him wasn’t allowed to keep someone like Itadori. And during his time as a vessel, he hadn’t dared to dream he would get to touch Itadori ever again.

He was a captive stuck in his own body, and Itadori was a world away. He would never get to feel the sun on his skin, the tang of ginger on his tongue, or the warmth of another person. He would live and die isolated from reality.

He had expected to die with Sukuna, if they could even kill him.

Megumi had hoped they would kill him.

Itadori blinks his eyes open. His gaze falls on Megumi and it only takes a moment for his confused expression to turn utterly tamed. The raw affection filling his honey-brown eyes is enough to make Megumi’s heart leap.

Itadori has never been good at hiding his emotions, but this… Megumi doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle this.

“Morning,” Itadori mumbles, voice rough with disuse. He shifts in place, but allows his legs to remain trapped under his friend. He sits up with both hands braced on the ground behind him and peers down at Megumi. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Megumi blinks at him. He nods slowly.

Itadori’s smile is soft, but Megumi can see the concern etched in the lines of his face. “That’s good.” His eyes flit over Megumi’s features. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Megumi’s answer is immediate. He curls his fingers deeper into Itadori’s sweatshirt. “No. Not… not for a while. A long while.”

Itadori nods. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it ever if that’s what you want, I just… I’m just so happy that you’re back.”

If Megumi was a better person he’d feel a twinge of guilt over causing his friend so much distress and putting him through hell and back. But Megumi is Megumi, and instead all he feels is relief and peace.

He savors the warmth that morning brings and lets his head flop back down into Itadori’s lap. His body aches from the strain transforming into that beast had placed on him. Right now, all he wants is to be held.

Itadori’s hand ruffles his hair. Megumi sighs at his touch.

“I missed you…” he breathes out as another wave of exhaustion takes him under. The last thing his brain registers is the gentle stroke of Itadori’s fingers combing through his hair.

Megumi has attempted sleeping alone in since then, but every time he stands in the dimly lit doorway staring into the dark abyss of his room he knows he can’t go through with it. It feels weak and pathetic each time he flinches away, but his can’t deny that he greatly prefers his new vice instead of forced exposure therapy.

He’s taken to sleeping in Itadori’s room. When he appears at his dorm room Itadori doesn’t hesitate to usher his friend in, scooch over in his bed, and pull up the sheets for Megumi to crawl beside him.

“Sorry for disturbing you,” Megumi whispers to him in the silence of the moonlit room. He opens his mouth to say that it’s a one-night-only situation, and he’ll leave Itadori alone after this, but he hates lying when it came to the boy nestled beside him. “This will probably happen again.”

“I don’t mind,” Itadori replies quietly. A few heartbeats pass before he murmurs, “I don’t like sleeping alone, either.”

Had something like this happened before Shinjuku, Megumi would have felt awkward looking at Itadori slumped against his pillow less than a foot away—not to mention the penetrating gaze of his friend watching him in return—but something has shifted since then and all he can recognize within himself is relief and comfort.

This dynamic of keeping the other close has somehow become their new normal.

Megumi no longer feels the need to watch and admire Itadori in secrecy. It feels wrong to even consider not allowing Itadori to see every part of himself, even the desires he’d held tightly under lock and key in the months before. He doesn’t mind if Itadori notices his eyes roaming.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Megumi’s eyes flick up to meet Itadori’s at the sound of his voice.

“Sometimes when I look at you it feels like I’m caught in a dream,” Itadori continues. He keeps their gazes locked on each other, breaking away from each other only when they blink. “It was only a month without you but it felt like so much longer.”

Itadori swallows, and when he speaks again his voice is hoarse. “I missed you so much, Fushiguro.”

“Megumi.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t use my family name. I don’t like how it sounds coming from you anymore. It doesn’t…” Megumi breaks off with a frown and his forehead creases. “It doesn’t sound right. Too much has happened for me to still be Fushiguro.”

Itadori’s expression softens. “Yeah… You’ve changed, that’s true. But at the same time, you’re still my best friend. You’re still bad at cooking. You still have black hair and green eyes. You still have a soft spot for animals.”

“That’s not what—”

“I felt different. After Shibuya, I mean. I killed—”

Itadori sharply cuts himself off. “I know what it feels like to be used. So… I get it.”

Megumi’s throat hurts when he swallows. You’re probably the only person who does.

“I’m afraid of what happens next,” he says in a threadbare whisper. “What if it isn’t worth it?”

“...What are you talking about?”

Megumi can’t speak it aloud. He’s too afraid of what the boy who sacrificed everything to reach him would say. What if living isn’t worth it?

It doesn’t matter. Itadori understands the look in his eye despite the mute reply.

“It is.” He says it adamantly as if he’s never been more certain of anything in his life. “It will always be worth it.”

“How do you know that? What if things don’t get better? What if I—”

Megumi’s eyelashes flutter as he struggles to blink away his tears. “What if this feeling never goes away? What if I’m stuck like this?”

Itadori’s face twists into an expression of such intense anguish that Megumi immediately wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Please don’t cry, we can’t have both of us crying right now,” Megumi’s voice cracks on the last syllable. “I wasn’t trying to upset you—”

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

Megumi rears back at the question. He isn’t against the idea, far from it, but it feels more than a bit out of nowhere. “Why?”

The shine of Itadori’s amber eyes is wet with unshed tears. He answers the question with a question. “Do you not want me to?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re the one avoiding the question! Are you alright with physical contact or not? I won’t be upset if you’re not.”

Megumi opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He nods.

“I’m not going to move until I hear you say it. I won’t push you into something you don’t want.” The halfhearted smile on Itadori’s face falls into something serious. “I refuse to be like him.”

“Don’t even consider that. You’re nothing like him.” Megumi lurches forward, and his head slides across the extra pillow Itadori had given him. “You would never be like him.”

Megumi’s relationship with physical contact has always been complicated; he’s rather adverse to other people touching him, flinching away or jumping when coming into contact with others, and yet… And yet he’s always longs for it once the moment has passed.

It’s unfamiliar and it isn’t always friendly, but Megumi has found himself fraught with a yearning anticipation for the next time someone will reach out a hand.

The sheets shift over Megumi’s shoulder as he moves closer. “Yes. I’m fine with physical contact. It actually… it feels really nice to know that someone is with me.”

Itadori’s eyes rove over his face, looking for any trace of doubt before moving. The maintained eye contact is unnerving in a way that Megumi feels completely undressed beneath Itadori’s gaze. He’s had trouble keeping things from Itadori in the past—not that Itadori hasn’t always been able to see right through him—but actively letting him in is more vulnerable than he generally allows himself to be.

Itadori wraps one arm over Megumi’s shoulder and pulls him close. Megumi lets himself be dragged in and savors the heat of Itadori’s body as proof of his living, beating heart. He’d seen that heart torn from his chest mere months ago. It was one of the worst days of his life. He’d thought that it would be the worst thing he’d ever live to see, back then.

He curls deeper into the embrace of Itadori’s arms and presses his ear against the other boy’s chest.

The steady rhythm of blood pumping through Itadori’s heart is a metronome. A comforting lullaby to soothe his aching soul.

Itadori has both arms slung around Megumi’s shoulders to fist his hands into the disheveled mess of black that is his head. His fingers are gentle; careful not to snag on the unruly tangles of hair as he brushes through it.

He’s gentle, but there’s a need lingering beneath his skin. Megumi can feel it in the way Itadori draws him closer and breathes into his hair. He holds him like he’s afraid it will be the last time.

Megumi maneuvers his head to tuck into the arch of Itadori’s neck and nestle in beneath his chin. The reassuring weight of him pulls a long sigh out of Megumi. His eyes flutter shut as another wave of exhaustion hits him.

Itadori nuzzles into the crown of his head. “I’ll make sure it’s worth it. You chose to stay with me, and I’ll never forget that, Megumi. I’ll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it.”

Tears well up in Megumi’s eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Itadori.”

“Yuuji,” he corrects gently. “If you’re Megumi, then I’m Yuuji. We’re in this together. You’re stuck with me.”

“I was the one saying that last time,” Megumi whispers into his shirt. “You—”

He chokes on the words of that memory. He hadn’t known what he was saying back then, the clairvoyance of them. How could he have?

He rubs his face against Itadori’s chest unapologetically wiping the tears away with his shirt. “That if you wanted to save people, then you had to start with me. I told you to save me.”

Itadori’s arms tighten around him further. “That must be why I fought so hard in Shinjuku. You’re scary when people don’t listen to you; I was just trying to follow orders.”

Megumi laughs for the first time in what feels like centuries. The sound of it is raspy from disuse, but he can’t feel embarrassed about it.

Silence floats around the room as they lay wrapped up in each other. Megumi’s eyelids have begun to droop as Itadori repeatedly threads his fingers through his hair. He’s so far gone he nearly misses Itadori’s quiet request.

“Give me five things you’re glad you stayed for. Things you would have missed if you hadn’t been rescued.”

Megumi blinks his bleary eyes.“Five?”

“I don’t think that’s too many considering how many things exist in the world.”

“Sleep,” he breathes out with a heavy sigh. “I’m tired, Yuuji—”

“Please?” Itadori interjects. He almost sounds like he’s ready to start begging. “Just… Just four more. Please. I want to know that you know there are some things you’re glad you’re still around to see. Please.”

Megumi readjusts himself to shift closer.

“Alright. But only because you seem to need it.” He hums and rifles through his brain to find any random thought that might please Itadori. “Um, ginger, I guess? Makes meals taste better, so I’d probably miss that… Sunlight, and the way it filters through the leaves in the courtyard when walking under the trees… Waking up after a good night’s rest—”

“You already said sleep, that’s cheating.”

“I said sleep and waking up after a good sleep. Those are two very different things.”

Itadori grunts in disapproval.

“Do you want me to keep going or not?”

“Sorry, sorry, continue, I guess…”

Megumi rolls his eyes. His last ‘thing’ comes to mind and he fights back a snort. “Being right. If I was dead I wouldn’t get to be right more often than you.”

He knows he’s said something wrong when Itadori presses his mouth to the crown of his head without uttering a word in edgewise. He moves his hand to lightly grasp Itadori’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

Itadori breathes in and out slowly, taking his time to reply.

“I just… Hearing you say it out loud makes me remember how it almost happened. You almost didn’t make it out.” He presses his cheek to Megumi’s head. “Then who would have been here to correct me when I’m wrong?”

Megumi’s throat feels dry. “Kugisaki. Maki-san. Okkotsu-senpai, but he’d be much nicer about it than they would—”

“You know that’s not the same. It wouldn’t be the same.”

Megumi curves his fingers around Itadori’s forearm protectively. “I know.”

Being out in public is… strange.

The bustling sidewalks of Tokyo are loud and crowded as Megumi and Itadori weave through the throng of people. Having grown up in the city, Megumi should be used to the raucous mix of people talking over each other and promotional ads playing on the screens displayed on the tall buildings. The familiarity of it provides him with a cornerstone of security, but having lived in the silence of that void for so long… it’s a tad overwhelming.

But it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’s dealt with far worse. Maneuvering the shopping district with Itadori to pick up groceries should be a piece of cake in comparison.

This is fine. You’re fine, he reminds himself, pointedly ignoring the sweat on his palms and the elevated beat of his heart.

“Hey, you good?”

Megumi looks up to see Itadori watching him with a concerned look on his face. He doesn’t attempt to fake a smile as he replies, “I’m fine.”

Itadori studies him. “You’ve been staring down at the sidewalk the whole walk here. Are you sure you’re alright to keep moving?”

I was? I didn’t even notice…

“Yes, I’ll be fine. I just… it’s busy. I’ll feel better once we’re out of the sun.”

Itadori doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press further. He leads Megumi off to the outskirts of the walkway where it’s less crowded, but doesn’t divert from their path.

Megumi watches Itadori as they pad down the road. It’s weird seeing him out of uniform. A sweatshirt and cargo pants have become his regular getup now that the world has been cleansed of curses, but Megumi will miss seeing the red hood draped around his collar. 

They turn down one of the side streets and enter a small outlet store. The walls are lined with a variety of different brands and ingredients, many of them Megumi recognizes from the last time he’d come here with Itadori months ago.

“I figured we could make tsukune today since I’ve already shown you how to once before,” Itadori says as he meanders down the produce aisle. He glances back at Megumi. “Sound good?”

Megumi nods. “Sure. I can grab the chicken, it’ll be faster if we split up.”

He moves to walk past Itadori, but stops when he hears a blustering, “Wait—”

Itadori looks both conflicted and embarrassed when Megumi turns back to him. His hand hovers over Megumi’s shoulder, an inch of empty space separating them.

“I, um,” Itadori stumbles over his words, “I don’t mind. This taking longer, I mean.”

Megumi cocks his head curiously. “Meaning?”

There’s a pale flush of pink spreading over the bridge of Itadori’s nose and cheeks. “I like shopping with you. With both of us picking out ingredients. I don’t mind if it takes longer to grab everything if it means we do it together.”

It clicks for Megumi.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll stick together.”

They peruse the different aisles lazily, picking up different items to see if it’s something they might want to try at a later date before setting them back down. They do end up sticking with a few extra things; Megumi tosses in a bag of the shrimp-flavored chips he knows Itadori likes while Itadori snatches up a few extra stems of ginger when he thinks Megumi isn’t looking.

Their final stop is in the refrigerator section. Itadori places the package of ground chicken into their basket and cheerfully smiles, “Done! Didn’t take that much longer, huh?”

Megumi shrugs. “I didn’t mind. This was nice. Distracting.”

“That’s true,” Itadori hums. “Keeping yourself busy is a good way to keep things out of your head.”

Something about the way he says it has Megumi turning back to him. He searches his friend’s face even though he isn’t quite sure what it is he’s looking for.

“Is that so?”

Itadori takes a deep breath in through his nose. “Yeah. After Shibuya, I focused on defeating as many curses as I could. It made me feel I could still help people despite everything that happened. And it wasn’t too bad, Choso—”

The silence that follows behind his abandoned sentence is stifling. Itadori swallows heavily before forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Choso was with me. He helped to keep me grounded when I would spiral, even though I didn’t really appreciate him back then.”

Shame snakes through Megumi choking his throat. I wasn’t the only one affected by Shinjuku. Everyone lost someone.

He knows that it isn’t realistic or healthy to compare trauma; they both experienced horrific things at the hands of the same person, but their experiences can’t possibly be compared. He knows this, but it doesn’t keep the idea that Itadori is handling his losses far better than he is from lingering in the back of his mind.

“That didn’t matter to him,” Megumi offers quietly. He prays that Itadori finds his words comforting instead of rubbing salt in the wound. “He was just grateful that you let him stay with you.”

Itadori blinks excessively as he scans the walls of the aisle. He sniffs the air, and Megumi notices the watery shine in his eyes. “Yeah, he’s a—he was a good brother.”

The sloped pitch of his voice strikes a knife deep into Megumi’s gut. It’s hard not to wonder if things would have turned out differently had they completely forgone the idea of trying to bring him back. In the end, he doesn’t think it would have, not with Sukuna being as ruthless as he was.

He wonders if Itadori thinks about it as much as he does.

“Is it hard talking about him?” Megumi asks pensively. He’s afraid of Itadori’s answer even though he’s certain he already knows what it will be.

Itadori winces. “Yeah. It hurts like a bitch to remember that he’s not here, but I don’t want that to stop me from keeping the memory of him alive. I’m worried that if I don’t make myself talk about him I’ll start to forget things.” 

He shakes his head and a steely determination turns his honey eyes to bronze. “I’m not going to let that happen. I won’t let him be lost.”

Pain lances through Megumi’s palms. He flinches beneath the pressure of his nails digging into the fragile skin and looks down to see half-moon crescents carved in a straight line down both of his hands.

How? How can you stand to think about him for more than a second? How can you bear it?

He swallows. It feels like jagged spines are digging into his throat. “You’re a good brother, too, Yuuji.”

There’s a light touch on his wrist. He glances up from beneath his eyelashes to see Itadori watching him closely. He wants to turn away and hide his shame, but he can’t find it within himself to shield things from him anymore.

“So are you.” Itadori squeezes his wrist as he says it. He’s trying to be kind, but the words ring through his ears like a gunshot.

Megumi doesn’t hide the doubt laden in his brusque huff of laughter. “Don’t. Don’t do this here. I can’t—I don’t want to talk about this.”

Itadori’s teeth clack together as he clenches his jaw shut. “Okay. It can wait until you’re ready.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.

“Thank you,” he forces the words out and trudges on ahead pulling his arm out of Itadori’s loose grip. “Now let’s head back. It’ll be dinnertime soon.”

Itadori is close behind. He fills the silence with gossip about what everyone else from Jujutsu Tech has been doing in the meantime; stories about Kugisaki running wild as she learns about everything that happened after Shibuya, Maki talking about traveling around Japan, and everything in between.

Megumi nods along, listening as best he can to distract himself from their previous conversation, but his eyes snag on something pink and the thought flashes through his mind before he can stop it.

Huh. I bet Gojo would like those.

His legs feel heavy and stuck to the floor as he stumbles forward, eyes locked on the box of sakura mochi lined up inside the freezer. Blue eyes, white hair, and a teasing smile flicker across his vision.

He can’t breathe. He tries to suck in the air, but his breathing sounds hoarse and raspy. Hands come down on his shoulders and Megumi can hear Itadori’s voice close to his ear, but he can’t decipher anything he’s saying.

Pain crawls up his legs as his knees hit the floor with a devastating smack, but it’s a far less painful affliction than the grief coursing through his chest and making a home in his heart. It’s paralyzing to think of him, but Megumi can’t stop as his vision begins to vignette.

It feels like there are two separate voices in his head fighting to be the loudest, and both are so overwhelming they make him nauseous.

I’m never going to see him again. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. He’s dead—

Shut up, shut up, shut up, I don’t want to think about this, I don’t want to think about him—

He’s dead and he’s never going to come back, if you were stronger you could have tried to take back your body, if you weren’t such a sniveling crybaby maybe you could have done something to save him—

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, shut up, shut up, think about something else, I don’t want to think about this, think of anything else, please, I can’t bear this, I didn’t even get to say goodbye—

Memories shuffle around on replay through his head like a slideshow, all to the accompaniment of his turbulent thoughts; he remembers when he first met Gojo on the sidewalk outside his shitty apartment, he remembers Gojo walking him home from school, he remembers when Gojo promised he’d protect Itadori, he remembers Gojo laughing in their apartment with Tsumiki—

No.

The chaos in his head comes to a stagnant halt.

Don’t. Don’t go to that place. That’s the one thing I can’t bear.

“Megumi!”

Itadori’s voice calling for him brings him back into reality. The dark edges of his vision shade as he takes in Itadori’s terrified face, flushed with panic and concern. Megumi’s breathing steadies the more he focuses on his face 

“Megumi? Hey, can you hear me? Are you listening?”

Megumi nods, however slow it is.

Itadori breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. “Okay, good, that’s good. I need you to breathe with me, okay? Can you follow my lead?”

He nods again. Itadori takes one of his hands and presses it to his chest. He can feel the beat of Itadori’s heart beneath his palm. It gives him a lifeline to hold onto, the steady repetition anchoring him. 

He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, mimicking Itadori’s example. His fast, shallow breaths start to slow. His eyes never leave Itadori’s.

“There you go,” Itadori praises. “You’ve got it.”

Exhaustion hits Megumi all at once. He slumps back onto the floor, his legs kicked out in front of him with one hand still pressed to Itadori’s chest while the other is clasped in his hand.

He peers up at Itadori with heavy eyelids. “Thanks… sorry about… all that…”

“Don’t even worry about it, I’m just glad that you’re alright.” Itadori looks over Megumi’s shoulder and reassures, “He’s fine, just a bit of an… attack. An asthma attack! But it’s all okay now, he’s going to be fine!”

Megumi turns around him to see several people standing at the end of the aisle watching the two of them with concerned faces. His face burns upon realizing they’ve just witnessed his mental breakdown up close and personal.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says nearly stumbling over his words. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He cringes over how childish he sounds, but Itadori nods patiently. “Of course. We can leave right now, it’s not an issue.”

He stands before pulling Megumi to his feet.

“What about the groceries?” the latter asks.

“Um, we leave them? Obviously? If you’re not feeling good we should just leave.”

The disappointment Megumi feels is muddled with frustration. But you wanted to cook together… And I wanted to spend time with you. Now it’s all ruined.

He wishes he could take back his words. If he hadn’t said anything about leaving he could have played it off and put on a brave face, but now that it’s out there he can’t imagine Itadori would be so willing to stick around even if he insisted.

No, he won’t take it back. He swore to himself that he’d be more open and honest about everything with Itadori, and he’s not going to go back on his word now. Rankled and resentful, Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek and grumbles a raspy, “Okay…”

Leaving their basket on the floor, the two make their way down the aisle and out the door. Itadori’s hand slides up the length of Megumi’s arm as they walk to loosely hold the sleeve of his shirt at the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t let go once during their walk to the train station.

Megumi slips into an empty chair as the doors slide shut behind them, his eyes following their example. He can feel Itadori’s presence standing over him playing guard dog as the train pulls out of the station.

The sound of a new voice muffled by static has him peeking one eye open.

“What?” Kugisaki’s agitated tone blares through the speaker of Itadori’s cell despite not being on speakerphone.

Itadori rolls his eyes and snorts, “Wow, thanks for the warm greeting.”

“I was basically dead for several months, I can greet you however I want.”

“Oh my god, you can’t keep using that as an excuse, Kugisaki! Even I didn’t do that—”

“That’s because you’re an idiot who didn’t use your death as leverage when you had the chance. Also, you were dead for, like, two days and hid from us for a month. I told you right when I woke up because I’m an amazing person who doesn’t like to cause her friends psychological damage.”

Megumi scoffs. “That excuse lost its impact after she said it for the eightieth time.”

A snicker falls from Itadori’s lips and Kugisaki barks, “I can’t hear him, but I’d bet my right eye that Fushiguro’s cracking snide-ass jokes from that gross laugh you just did. Tell him to say it to my face.”

“Happily.”

Itadori chuckles again before saying, “Look, I’m just calling to let you know we’re heading back early. I’m sure you won’t mind hanging around town a bit longer even if it’s by yourself.”

“It’ll suck not having my servants here to carry my things, but I’ll manage.” Her tone shifts from mock irritation to genuine concern as she asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we just decided to head back early. It’s been a while since Megumi has been out in public with a ton of people, so we figured we’d call it a day.”

“Hm. ‘Megumi’, huh?”  

The vague commentary makes Itadori stand up straighter, but he doesn’t reply and Megumi pointedly doesn’t note the rosy hue on his cheeks.

Kugisaki sighs. “Alright, I’ll be fine on my own. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll probably be out for a while, I’m so behind on all the trends and I need to catch up.”

“Sounds good,” Itadori nods along before jumping in place. “Oh! And can you stop by the supermarket on your way back? I’ll text you a list of what to get.”

This new request grabs Megumi’s attention. He lifts his head high and opens both eyes to watch Itadori curiously.

“Ugh, you couldn’t have gotten that stuff before you left?”

“Sorry, couldn’t be helped. It’s important that we get back soon.”

Kugisaki blows a raspberry into the receiver, but she concedes nonetheless. “Fine. Text me your stupid list, but you owe me. Don’t forget that.”

“As if you’d let me…” Itadori grumbles under his breath. “Thanks, we’ll see you when you get back.”

Kugisaki barely lets him finish before she hangs up without another word. Itadori blinks down at his phone confused, but there’s an endeared smile gracing his lips.

The rest of the train ride passes in comfortable silence, up until the two make it past the barriers of the school. The only sound in the halls of their dorm building is their footsteps. Megumi’s hands are shoved in his pockets clenching and unclenching the denim beneath his fingers. He spies his door at the end of the hall and his breathing quickens. He thinks of those attempted nights alone.

Don’t make me go in there.

“Do you—” Itadori’s voice blares through the hallway making both of them flinch. He clears his throat and repeats, softer this time, “Do you want some time alone?”

Before Shinjuku, before Sukuna possessed his body, Megumi would have said yes. He’s always enjoyed having time to himself after spending the day with his more extroverted classmates, needing to unwind privately without the weight of prying eyes. But things have changed since then. He’s changed, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to sit in comfortable isolation again.

“No,” he replies quietly. “I just need a distraction. I don’t want to think anymore today, and it will be hard not to if I’m by myself.”

Itadori nods and points a thumb over his shoulder. “Want to watch a movie, then? We can use the TV in the common area like old times.”

Old times, Megumi muses silently. Even though it’s only been a couple of months since the last time we were all together.

“Mm. That sounds nice, actually.”

A bright smile breaks out over Itadori’s face to banish the storm in Megumi’s heart. Itadori walks backward toward the common area keeping his gaze still fixed on the other boy.

“Sweet! I think we still have some popcorn left in the pantry, and there are blankets on the couch—oh! What are you in the mood for? To watch, I mean? I know you’re into sci-fi, so we can always watch Interstellar or something—”

“I thought I said I didn’t want to think,” Megumi teases with a wry grin, endeared by how quickly Itadori can get sucked into discussing movies even after all this time.

“Right, right, okay, not that then…”

Megumi listens to Itadori babble on for the next ten minutes about their options, happily including the pros and cons of each suggestion. He takes his place on the massive couch spanning the length of the room, excessively large for the barren number of students who actively spend their free time in the common area.

He slinks deeper into the plush pillows at his back and releases a soft sigh. Itadori shouts his opinions from the kitchen as the sound of popcorn popping drowns him out before fretting over whether he set the timer on the microwave for too long or not long enough.

The simple domesticity of it all makes Megumi long for a day when the most they have to worry about is picking the right movie and whether or not they’ll burn their concessions.

The sound of Itadori shuffling across the wooden floor turns his thoughts elsewhere. Itadori places the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table between the couch and the television, but he doesn’t sit down. Instead, he grabs the soft, silky blanket draped over the arm of the sofa and leans in close to lay it across Megumi’s legs and torso.

“What are you doing?” Megumi asks as if this is the most startling thing he’s experienced in the last few weeks.

Itadori snorts. “Covering you with a blanket? You get cold easily, don’t you?”

Megumi opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again to mumble a quiet, “... Yes.”

“Then that should answer your question.”

He plops down right beside Megumi, their arms brushing as he reaches forward and plucks the bowl from the table before settling it in the small space between them. “So, have you decided on a movie, yet?”

They’re thirty minutes into Jurassic Park when Megumi notices that they’ve met each other in the middle; arms and legs firmly pressed together as they lean against each other, taking comfort in the simple intimacy of their contact. He watches Itadori out of the corner of his eye. The sheer wonder on his face, so completely enchanted by the brachiosaurus stomping across the screen as the iconic score plays in the background, makes Megumi smile and suddenly it hits him.

This is that day. We don’t have to battle curses anymore, we don’t have to worry about defeating Sukuna, we don’t have to fight anymore. We can just… be.

He doesn’t pull away.

They’re in the final act of the second Jurassic Park when they hear someone enter the common area. Itadori shifts to look over the back of the couch, jostling Megumi from where he’s resting on his shoulder.

“Hey, Kugisaki,” he greets before turning back to the television. “Thanks for grabbing that stuff for us.”

“Foot the bill for my boba these next few weeks and we’ll call it even,” she says from the kitchen. Plastic bags rustle as she sets the groceries on the counter before approaching the sofa.

“Is Fushiguro in his room or something? I don’t see—”

Her voice drops off suddenly, and both boys turn their heads to see her staring at them with her nose wrinkled and her mouth twisted into an expression of disgust.

“Ugh, seriously? This was what was so important that you couldn’t wait to get back here?”

“We’re… watching a movie?” Itadori says sounding unsure.

She pointedly looks down at the complete lack of personal space between the two of them and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what this is.”

Megumi follows Kugisaki’s gaze and is mortified by what he sees. Their physical contact has only become worse since the first movie, and there’s absolutely no personal space between them; the length of their arms are pressed against each other, thighs touching, and when Megumi glances at Itadori he finds only a mere inch between their faces.

He slams his eyes shut as if that will keep him from being perceived and lets out a shallow breath. He counts to five before turning back to Kugisaki and leveling her with a gaze that conveys something akin to say something, I dare you.

Her eye widens, and she looks stunned. “You’re not going to make any excuses or try to defend yourself?”

“What do I have to defend?”

She looks between the pair on the couch trying to assess whatever is going on with this new dynamic. “What the hell happened while I was dead?”

“You weren’t dead—”

“Ieiri-san said my heart stopped, that counts.”

Megumi breathes out a heavy sigh that sounds more like a growl. “Either leave or shut up and sit down to watch this with us.”

“As if I’m going to hang out with you two when you’re like this,” Kugisaki gags. “I’m going to change and find Maki.”

She gives Megumi one final look before flitting down the hall to her room. Megumi rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Jeff Goldblum when he notices that Itadori is silently watching him.

“What?”

“Huh?” Itadori replies dumbly.

Megumi furrows his brow. “Why are you looking at me like that? Was it something Kugisaki said?”

“Maybe. I can’t tell, yet.”

“Okay, well, just keep watching until you figure it out. We still have the third movie to get through.”

“And the two Jurassic World movies.”

Megumi winces. “Don’t remind me. That scene of the brachiosaurus running to the docks was traumatizing.”

Itadori looks distraught with the way his eyebrows pinch together. “That scene is so sad…”

“And those movies aren’t even good enough for me to forgive them for it.” Megumi slumps back against Itadori with a heavy sigh. “Forget Kugisaki. Let’s just… relax. We don’t need to overthink anything she says.”

“I’m not overthinking,” Itadori hums. “Are you overthinking?”

“Why would I?”

He feels Itadori’s eyes on the side of his face. He can practically hear the thoughts spinning around his head.

What this is, exactly. What it’s going to become. How to navigate this new dynamic.

Megumi ignores his probing eyes. He isn’t at a place where he can properly articulate how he’s feeling about everything, especially not when he isn’t in a good emotional state to figure out himself, let alone his relationships with others.

Wait for me, he silently whispers back. I won’t run this time. Please… just wait for me.

Megumi ruffles his hair with his towel, hoping to pull as much water from his hair as he can before leaving his room for the night. He glances at his reflection in the mirror and flinches. The scars are bad. He can’t look at them without seeing someone else’s face instead of his own. 

He doesn’t want to think about the reasons behind that. That’s something for him to deal with later.

Taking a deep sigh, he hangs his towel up and slips from his dorm out into the hall. All of the lights are off, turning the walls dark and ominous the further he looks down the hallway, and he swiftly heads next door.

He taps on Itadori’s door with two quick knocks before resting his hand on the doorknob. He glances back down the hall again. His pulse jumps beneath the overhanging shadows and his grip on the door tightens. He knocks again.

Please, hurry.

“Come in,” Itadori chirps from inside. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to push his way inside and roughly shut the door behind him.

The light of the lamp on the nightstand beside Itadori’s bed instantly calms his anxiety. Itadori pokes his head out of his bathroom and smiles at the sight of the newcomer. “Hey, I’m just brushing my teeth real quick.”

Megumi nods and glances at the bed, sheets sloppily thrown over from the night before. He’s certain he could crawl in without Itadori caring in the slightest, but…

He looks at the corner the bed is pushed into. He sits down at the foot of the bed and his throat feels tight.

The sink turns on in the bathroom for a few seconds before shutting off and Itadori emerges from the doorway. He quirks a smile at Megumi and says, “You could have made yourself comfortable, you know. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Megumi’s fingers scratch against the comforter. He doesn’t meet Itadori’s eyes as he murmurs, “I don’t like sleeping against the wall.”

The room falls silent. Megumi prays that he won’t have to explain further why the thought of sleeping pressed between two barriers—one of which is a tall, cold, dark wall—without an easy escape route bothers him.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Itadori speaks softly. He shuffles across the floor and into the bed without complaint. He moves to lay closest to the wall and pats the empty spot beside him as he stretches beneath the covers. “Jump in.”

Megumi slips beneath the sheets, determined not to look at Itadori. He clicks the light off on the lamp and stiffens beneath the blanket of darkness covering the room, but the small orange light in the opposite corner of the room grabs his attention.

Megumi stares at it. The light flickers ever so slightly, similar to a flame. His voice is quiet as he asks, “What is that?”

“Hm?” Itadori lifts himself onto his elbows to look over at the same corner before flopping back down. “Oh, that’s a nightlight. I asked Kugisaki to pick one up.”

Megumi bites the inside of his cheek. “Why?”

“You’ve been asking me that a lot today.”

“Yuuji…”

“It’s been hard for you to sleep with the room being so dark, and the moon won’t always be this bright, so I figured I’d just get us something more permanent.”

Megumi runs his tongue over his teeth, his eyes not moving from the nightlight. 

Us. The word patters around Megumi’s brain like fresh rain over barren earth. He said ‘us.’

Itadori shifts beside him. “… Is that alright?”

Moisture pricks at the edges of his vision, and he shuts his eyes tightly. If he opens them he’s certain he won’t be able to keep the tears from spilling over.

“Megumi?”

When he doesn’t reply, Itadori sits up. The bed frame creaks as he leans closer and whispers, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Megumi is barely able to croak out a throaty, “It’s nothing.”

He jumps when he feels a hand settle on the center of his back.

“Megumi, please, talk to me.” Concern leaks into Itadori’s voice. “Something happened today in that store. You don’t have to go into detail if you don’t want to, but… I don’t want you to shut me out. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

Megumi bites his lower lip so hard he tastes metal. He struggles to keep a tight grip on how expressive his face is, but everything he’s been fighting to push down comes boiling to the surface.

Choso, that stupid mochi, Gojo, her, that damned light—what isn’t wrong?

A choked sob wracks his body. He desperately prays will be the last, but when Itadori presses his forehand to his shoulder he knows it’s futile.

His lungs convulse as he cries. Tears stream in rivulets down his face to soak his pillow. He curls into himself in an attempt to protect himself—from what, he doesn’t know.

“I hate this,” he hisses through his weeping. He rakes his nails down his arms, biting into his skin. “I hate this. I hate that things are like this.”

Itadori lays back down and wraps an arm around his torso to pull him close. Megumi immediately grabs his hand and squeezes tight, hoping that he’ll be able to ground himself once more.

“What happened?” Itadori whispers as he presses a warm cheek to his back.

“I—”

Megumi sees the face of his guardian and the words are stolen from his tongue. He breaks down into another wave of tears.

“I-It was—It was Gojo.” He’s barely able to get the words out. He clenches his jaw to keep himself from crying again and just finish his goddamn sentence. “Something reminded me of him.”

Itadori hums. “Ah, that makes sense.”

“It fucking sucks,” Megumi growls. “I don’t want to think about him if it’s going to make me feel this way. It was like I was paralyzed.”

“Yeah, it’s not—” Itadori cuts himself off to swallow heavily. He turns his head further into Megumi’s back before mumbling, “It’s not fun.”

Megumi stills in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Yuuji,” he whispers. Silent tears gather at his lashes. “I wasn’t thinking. You’re going through this, too, I wasn’t—”

“It’s alright, why are you apologizing?”

“You lost your brother, too.” His voice cracks on the second to last word. “I’m complaining about my loss when you’ve experienced the same thing—”

“You’re not complaining, Megumi, you’re grieving. I wouldn’t expect you to be okay.”

“But you seem so…” Megumi’s words trail off, and he bites his lip. He sighs and turns over to face Itadori fully.

It’s a bit startling to suddenly come face-to-face with him. They’re as close as they were on the couch, but Itadori doesn’t flinch away. His arm grazed Megumi’s skin when he turned around, but he keeps it firmly nestled around his waist with his hand against the small of his back to keep him close.

“It’s hard not to believe you’re handling things better than I am,” Megumi murmurs a bit breathlessly. Despair claws at his heart and crawls up his throat. “You’re actually able to talk about Choso. I can’t even think of his face without falling to pieces.”

Itadori laughs, but the sound is hollow and joyless. “And you don’t think I am?”

Megumi should have bitten his tongue. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“People handle grief in different ways, Megumi, I’m not faring any better than you. Grieving isn’t a competition—”

“I know that—I know that—so why does it feel like everyone else is able to move on with their lives, but I can’t even manage to walk down a dark hall without my skin crawling? I need a goddamn nightlight in my room like I’m three years old before I can even close my eyes—”

“Plenty of people are scared of the dark—”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Megumi snaps. Anger strikes through him like a thunderclap. “You know it isn’t the same thing. You know it’s different for me.

“You fought Sukuna while I just… I just let him destroy everything. Two of the people I love most died, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I was too weak to even attempt to challenge Sukuna; he steamrolled right over my will and used me to kill the closest thing I had to a brother. To kill my si—”

His lip wobbles. He flexes the hand resting in the space between them wanting to reach out and grab Itadori, to feel connected to someone even if it’s just through their palms, but that sort of reprieve is something he won’t allow himself.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Itadori murmurs.

His grip is firm as he takes Megumi’s hand. Megumi can feel the callouses on his palm and the pads of his fingers. 

“I know. I know it wasn’t my fault, but my body remembers what it felt like to use his technique.”

He doesn’t clarify what he means.

I remember how it felt to cut them apart.

Itadori watches him. His brown eyes look duller in the pale light flickering off the walls.

He sighs. “I wasn’t conscious at all in Shibuya until he let me regain control, so I can’t say I know what you’re feeling.”

Megumi snuggles closer, gravitating towards his warmth. “...What was it like? You’ve never talked about it much.”

It’s a selfish question to ask and he knows it, but he won’t take it back. Itadori has always skated around the subject giving nothing more than vague or barebones answers.

Itadori shrugs with forced nonchalance. “Not much to talk about.”

Megumi waits.

Itadori bites his lip.

“...I don’t remember much. I was fighting Choso—”

Megumi winces. The lines of Itadori’s hard expression soften at the reaction.

“You’re more thoughtful than you realize,” Itadori says as he runs his thumb over the back of Megumi’s knuckles sending a spark of electricity down his spine. He’s still learning what his limits are with Itadori; most physical contact acts as a warm blanket of comfort while some touches burn within him like lighting.

“What do you mean?”

Itadori’s mouth curves into a hint of a smile. “You got this guilty look on your face when I mentioned Choso.”

“If I’d known asking about Shibuya would recall that memory of him I would have reworded it better.”

“Even painful memories can be good sometimes.”

Megumi’s lip curls in skepticism. “...I don’t know about that.”

 “I do,” Itadori retorts easily. “Choso knocked me out cold during our fight. Sukuna was able to take hold of my body somehow and… well, you know what he did next. I woke up in front of a crater. It took me a few seconds to realize what he’d done, and I felt sick to my stomach after.”

His calm demeanor wavers and Megumi can see the shadows of the past glazing eyes. Itadori’s mouth quirks as he struggles to maintain an even expression. His voice shakes around the edges as he mumbles, “I remember wishing that he’d killed me, too. Or that Gojo-sensei had done what he was supposed to the night we met instead of keeping me alive.”

Megumi sucks in a short, sharp breath. He’d pondered the consequences of his request that night, wondering if his selfish desire to keep Itadori alive would end up staining their hands with the blood of innocents. At the time, he hadn’t considered how his decision might affect Itadori’s psyche—

“Even now it’s hard not to wonder if he made the wrong decision,” Itadori says, pulling him from his thoughts. “A lot more people would still be alive if he’d just gone through with it and killed me.”

Megumi bites the inside of his cheek. He thinks about Itadori’s own words as they stood in the landscape of his broken soul; how even one person wanting him in their life was enough to light a spark in him.

“Gojo didn’t make the decision,” he rasps in a deep, throaty voice. “I’m the one who asked him to save you. If he hadn’t sworn to protect you a lot of people would be dead, too, Yuuji.”

Itadori’s eyes smolder. “Why? Why did you want to save me?”

“Because you were good and kind, and good and kind people are always the ones who die. I didn’t want to see someone like you be killed.”

“But I was a stranger,” Itadori’s voice grows hoarse. “I thought you didn’t try to save people you knew couldn’t be saved. You knew I’d have to be executed one day even if it wasn’t then.”

He’s right. It doesn’t make sense why Megumi was so intent on keeping Itadori alive, even now. He isn’t kind or good, but argumentative and cynical. He won’t risk the safety of others to attempt to rescue a lost cause.

“I don’t know.”

“You have to know.”

“I don’t. All I do know is that when I saw you passed out in Gojo’s arms I couldn’t help but feel like the world would be a better place with you still in it. I didn’t know you would come to Jujutsu Tech. Or that Gojo would—”

He takes a shaky breath. Tears prick at his eyes again. “That Gojo would continue to take care of me by placing you in the room right next to mine. He knew you’d look after me.”

Megumi wipes his nose with his sleeve.

“Fuck that guy. He always messed with things that weren’t his business. So annoying…” His eyes fall shut with a shuddered sigh. “I miss him.”

His breathing begins to slow as the promise of sleep begins to eat at his consciousness. Itadori’s steady exhales are a metronome and the arm holding them nearly chest to chest is better than any weighted blanket, but Megumi wishes they were closer. He always wants Itadori closer.

“Five things?”

Megumi is barely able to register Itadori’s words. His lethargy makes him thoughtless. He leans in closer and lets out a heavy sigh when he feels the soft fabric of Itadori’s shirt against his forehead and cheek.

“Pillows, a warm bed, Jurassic Park , blankets, and popcorn,” he murmurs succinctly before slipping into the warm embrace of sleep.

It’s the first time Megumi doesn’t dream. His nightmares subside for one peaceful night and all that surrounds his unconscious mind is softness, comfort, and warmth.

Megumi runs his fingers over the pale sheets hanging on the wire in front of him. He hums at the soft, silky feeling of them. “These are nice.”

“They’re bamboo sheets. Three-hundred-and-fifty thread count.” Kugisaki’s reply comes from several feet behind him where she’s spread out reclining on one of the lounge chairs settled on the deck. She’s in a t-shirt and shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose despite her eyepatch covering her left eye, happy to leave the business of her laundry to someone else as she peruses the magazine in her lap.

“You could help, you know.”

“Can’t, I’m trying to get some much-needed relaxation. Plus, you’re so much better at it than I am.”

Megumi rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment further. He tosses another sheet over the line. His eyes follow the path of his hand as he straightens out the folds, up until he hears a loud thump against the grass out in the field thirty feet away from the two of them.

“Why are we still doing this?” Itadori groans from where he’s splayed out on the ground with Maki leering over him. “Aren’t curses gone, or whatever?”

Maki scoffs. “Yes, but there are still going to be curse users from time to time. And now that the cursed energy of everyone in the world has been unlocked there are going to be a lot more of them.”

Itadori’s eyebrows pinch together. “What does that have to do with you kicking my ass?”

“Gotta stay in shape.” A proud, devious grin tugs at the edge of Maki’s lips. “And it entertains me. You’ve improved since the last time we sparred.”

A loud snort comes from behind Megumi. He turns to see Kugisaki watching him with concerning interest. She pulls her sunglasses down to look him directly in the eye as she glances back and forth between him and the pair on the field.

“What?” he asks, despite his self-preservation. He already knows he won’t like her answer.

Kugisaki leans forward as she pulls one leg up to her chest. Resting her chin on her knee, she asks, “So, how far into my coma was I when this happened?”

Megumi grinds his teeth together. He can’t lie to her. Everyone knows that he and Itadori are… him and Itadori.

“That’s… been a more recent development.”

Kugisaki scoffs. “I don’t believe that. You’ve been into him since day one.”

Heat prickles on the back of his neck. I didn’t think I was that obvious…

“So what happened?” Kugisaki presses on. “You two weren’t like this before Shibuya. I need to know the details of how this all came about.”

Megumi turns back to the laundry, happy to have an excuse to hide his flushed face from her prying questions. “Itadori ran away after everything. I went after him.”

Several seconds pass before Kugisaki growls, “That’s it? You’re not going to give me any more information on how you two got together?”

“We’re not even—we aren’t—look, we haven’t talked about it, okay?”

Kugisaki’s lip curls into a horrified grimace. “Why the hell not? What’s stopping you?”

“Clarifying the relationship is not what’s most important right now.”

“Then what are you?”

“We’re just… we’re us. And that’s all we need to be, right now.”

“I’m just surprised that you haven’t talked about this and yet you’re sneaking off to him every night when you think I’m asleep.”

Megumi whirls around to stare at her with wide, round eyes. He stands still like a prey animal attempting to avoid the detection of a predator.

“I see you slipping out of Itadori’s room every morning, I’m not blind.” She pauses. “Well, not completely blind.”

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His face feels as if it's been sunburned, but he knows it isn’t from his time outside. “It’s not like that, he’s just helping me.”

Kugisaki scrunches her face up and sticks out her tongue in disgust. “Ew, gross.”

“I already said it’s not like that, you pig.”

“Sorry for assuming that two teenage boys who like-like each other probably want to kiss sometimes,” she says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leans back and looks him up and down. “You don’t have to sneak around, though. Everyone would be happy for you.”

Megumi chews on his lower lip. “It’s not like we’re trying to sneak around… there’s nothing for us to even sneak around for.”

“I’m going to need a better explanation.”

“It’s a bit difficult to explain a complicated situation…”

“Figure it out.”

Megumi wrinkles his nose. “I did not miss this attitude while you were gone.”

The smug look on Kugisaki’s face shifts and her mouth softens into a wide, genuine smile. “Liar.”

He rolls his eyes, but he knows she’s right. He’s grateful she’s here and has another person he feels comfortable enough to talk about things with.

“I have trouble sleeping. I don’t… I don’t like the dark. It’s hard to be alone in my room at night, so Itadori has been letting me stay with him.”

Kugisaki’s mouth twitches enough that Megumi can tell she’s fighting to keep her face neutral.

He sighs. “Just say whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Glad you think my trauma is cute.”

“Not your trauma, your sleeping habits! You can only get a good night’s rest if you’re in the warm embrace of your lover… It’s like something out of a romance novel.”

“Do not call him that.” Megumi crosses his arms over his chest protectively. “And please don’t say anything to him.”

“It’s not like he’ll care, but fine,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “I’m just glad you have someone to talk to about everything. You probably don’t want to talk about Shinjuku or Sukuna with a lot of people, knowing you, but… I’m here. If you ever need me.”

The knot in Megumi’s chest relaxes. He’d been worried that Kugisaki wouldn’t acclimate well upon her return. So much has happened during her absence; things that are hard to understand without experiencing it firsthand. He’s glad she doesn’t seem to mind being the one to sit and listen for once.

“I know,” he murmurs before glancing back at the field to see Itadori and Maki going at it again. “So, have you talked to Maki yet, you hypocrite?”

After several weeks of this, Megumi has stopped trying to pretend like he won’t end up by Itadori’s side by the time night rolls around. The warmth of their shared body heat is something he doesn’t think he’ll be able to give up so easily should Itadori ever decide to kick him out.

Not that he ever would, Megumi muses from where he leans against the bathroom doorframe, waiting for Itadori to finish brushing his teeth. His eyes keep wandering over to the small bit of skin peaking out of Itadori’s shirt at the base of his neck to where it meets his hairline.

“Fibe thinbs?” Itadori asks through a mouthful of toothpaste. A drop of it falls onto his shirt and he groans. It’s baggy and oversized, but it only makes him look more cozy.

Megumi shakes himself out of his stupor and looks back out into the bedroom. His cheeks warm even at the thought of being caught gawking at his roommate—bedmate?—even though he knows Itadori wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

“Toothpaste,” he lists with half a mind.

Itadori furrows his brow in confusion but doesn’t stop brushing. “Toofpase?”

Megumi shrugs. “It would suck to be stuck with bad breath. I like having a clean mouth.”

There’s a small bang close to the sink and when Megumi looks back he sees Itadori lifting his foot in pain. Itadori spits into the sink and nervously laughs, “I hit my toe on the bottom cupboard. Continue with your list, even though I don’t think toothpaste really counts.”

“It counts for me.” Megumi sighs and cards his fingers through his hair. “Hmmm… Laundry?”

“This is sort of a lame list…”

“Shut up. I like the simplicity of it. And it looks sort of pretty when it’s backlit by the sun…”

He glances over to see Itadori watching him with a small smile. Megumi narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Itadori shrugs and turns back to the sink, but Megumi can see in the mirror that his smile only grows. “It’s nothing. You’re just—I like watching you talk about things.”

“Why?”

Itadori chuckles under his breath. “And you say I’m thick-headed…”

Megumi’s skin burns hotter. He can’t keep looking at Itadori in that loose white shirt with that frustratingly endearing grin plastered across his face.

He covers his mouth with a hand, half-hiding his own smirk.

When Itadori doesn’t say anything to break the silence, Megumi courageously glances back at the mirror. The grin Itadori greets him with is all teeth. It makes his heart flutter and his stomach flip.

“The sun,” he blurts out without thinking. His fingers flex against the doorframe. “It was cold in that mindscape thing. It wasn’t like I was freezing… but there was never any warmth there, either.”

His eyes travel across the wide expanse of Itadori’s back. He takes in his shoulders, his arms, his hands, how everything about him takes up space and exudes warmth. The butterflies in his stomach fall away at the sight of Itadori; all he can feel is peace.

His voice comes out as a whisper. “I definitely missed the sunlight.”

Itadori’s eyes flicker to his in the mirror. His face softens from a bright grin into something gentle. “Let’s go to bed. The sooner you fall asleep the sooner you can wake up to the sun.”

You have no idea how desperately I want that.

Itadori walks out of the bathroom past him and smoothly traces his hand down the line of Megumi’s arm from elbow to wrist before approaching the bed. The touch sends shivers through Megumi. He hadn’t been expecting Itadori to touch him so casually. It’s become a craving he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to satiate.

They crawl into Itadori’s bed and the walls of his room glow a faint yellow-orange. Megumi watches the light dance on the wall. Every night since Itadori first plugged it in he’s slept better. It had once been a painful reminder of how deeply he’d been affected by his time with Sukuna, but now it just reminds him of the soft cushioning of Itadori’s bed.

His lashes flutter and caress his cheeks, their gentle brush coaxing him closer to the relief of sleep.

Something brushes against his side and he jumps before realizing Itadori’s arm has settled over his waist with his hand resting limply over his stomach. Megumi breathes out a sigh of relief that it’s just Itadori right before that realization creates an entirely new problem. He’s grateful he’s facing away from Itadori so there isn’t any chance the other boy will see how flushed his face is.

Itadori’s warm breath puffs against the back of his neck as he curls against Megumi’s back. With a low voice, he murmurs, “Keep going.”

Megumi lays frozen in place. “What?”

“Your five things. You’ve only said three.” Itadori shifts behind him and presses his cheek to Megumi’s shoulders. “You still have two more.”

“Right.” Megumi swallows, forcing down his embarrassment. He wracks his brain for something that makes him happy, but it’s hard to think clearly when he’s being pulled into a late-night cuddle session. “Um, I don’t know… I can’t really think of anything—”

“Are you alright? You sound distracted.”

Typically, Megumi would have overlooked an innocent question like that from Itadori, but there’s something about the way he says it that his brain latches onto.

He’s messing with me.

Megumi’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “You’re the worst.”

Itadori’s amused chuckles rumble in his ear. “Aw, come on, you don’t really think that, do you?”

Obviously not….

“I’ve never believed in something so strongly.”

“Mhm, I bet. But you still have to give me two more things.”

Megumi clicks his tongue petulantly. “Fine. I’m glad I’m alive because that means I can still tell you when you’re being stupid.”

A laugh far louder than the quiet chuckles from before erupts from Itadori. He quickly tries to muffle it into Megumi’s shoulder, but his snickers ring out like victory bells in Megumi’s ears.

Megumi has to fight back a smile of his own. It’s not difficult to get Itadori to laugh at something—he can laugh at almost everything—but Megumi always feels like patting himself on the back when he’s the one doing it.

Itadori’s laughter dissolves slowly. Megumi misses the sound of it almost immediately. He opens his mouth to tease him further, but he stills when Itadori’s arm around him tightens and his fingers grip the fabric of his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in a voice barely loud enough to break the silence of the room.

Itadori’s hand flexes. He takes his time gathering his thoughts, so long that Megumi wonders if he should ask again until he hears Itadori speak with a trembling voice.

“I’m glad you’re here to tell me I’m stupid, too.”

Megumi reaches for him. He rests his hand over the one Itadori has curled against his stomach and gives a comforting squeeze. Itadori, in turn, touches his forehead to the nape of his neck.

There’s a sense of security to each point of physical contact between them. A confirmation of yes, I’m here, we’re here together.

Megumi leans back into his touch. He steels his nerves and softly whispers back, “You.”

“...Me?”

“My fifth reason. It’s you.” He runs his thumb along the back of Itadori’s hand. “Although, you’re more like the first reason and everything else comes after that.”

Megumi has no reason to feel nervous. He knows that Itadori knows he loves him. He knows that Itadori feels the same way. And yet, he’s desperately trying to untie the knots in his stomach, but they only seem to become more tangled.

And, somehow, Itadori easily undoes them with deft, gentle hands.

He reaches beneath Megumi, his hand sliding between his body and the mattress to fully embrace him. Both arms circle his torso and draw him back closer, fully bringing Megumi’s back against his chest.

He presses his face into the crook of his neck, the neckline of Megumi’s shirt acting as the only barrier between the two. Megumi shivers at the feeling of Itadori’s breath against his skin.

“You, too,” Itadori murmurs against his collar. “You’re my number one, too.”

In the morning, Megumi wakes to find himself drooling onto his pillow. He blinks open bleary eyes as they adjust to the light filtering through the room. He must have rolled over in his sleep since he’s flat on his stomach with his hands shoved beneath his pillow to tuck it in closer beneath his jaw. 

There’s an unfamiliar weight pressing down on the deltoid of his left shoulder. He lifts his head to see what the pressure might be and is greeted with a shock of pink hair. Itadori snores softly from where he sleeps looking strangely at ease with how uncomfortable the crooked tilt of his head looks from where it’s nestled between Megumi’s shoulder and the center of his back. Both of his arms are still tucked snuggly around Megumi’s waist, and Itadori seems far too out of it to be interested in vacating his perch.

Megumi lets out a soft snort. He’s out like a light.

He doesn’t keep track of how long he lays in bed like that. He scrolls through his phone idly and finishes two different crosswords before nature calls him to abandon his post as Itadori’s pillow. He wiggles in an attempt to free himself, but Itadori doesn’t relent his hold. 

Megumi is only just able to turn over and flop onto his back before Itadori readjusts back into place. His arms are still clinging to Megumi, but his head is now resting comfortably on his stomach. 

Megumi watches him in the calming quiet of the morning, trying not to smile at the way the loose folds of his shirt shudder beneath Itadori’s steady breathing. His eyes latch onto the mess of pink hair and he lets instinct be his guide.

He cards his fingers through the rosy strands savoring the small gift he’s been given to see Itadori like this. He rolls a tuft between his fingers and admires how soft his hair is. Itadori releases a soft sigh that stills his hand for a moment, but Megumi continues to run his hand through his hair when he doesn’t stir further.

He lets his head slump against his pillow. His eyes shut as another wave of sleepiness washes over him. Several minutes pass before his bladder starts to give him serious warning signs, and he sighs. He’d much rather stay like this than force his way out of bed and into the bathroom.

His fingers gently scratch against Itadori’s scalp as he gives himself one last selfish touch, but the sight of two warm brown eyes watching him startles him when he looks back down. He jerks in place and accidentally pulls Itadori’s hair still tangled between his fingers.

“Ow,” Itadori grumbles quietly. He blinks up at Megumi with his chin still resting on his stomach.

“You’re awake? How long have you been awake?”

Itadori looks up at the ceiling. “Uhhhh, maybe like two minutes? If even that?”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?” Megumi grumbles, glancing at his hand still nestled in his hair. 

He slowly pulls away, and Itadori’s face falls into a pout.

“You didn’t have to stop…”

“I need to go the bathroom.”

“You can’t hold it?”

The whiny petulance in his voice lifts the corner of Megumi’s mouth. “I’ve been holding it for the past twenty minutes. You’re very stubborn, even when you’re asleep.”

“You were going to leave?”

“I was going to go to the bathroom. Now let me get up or I won’t be responsible for what happens to your bed.”

Itadori avoids his eyes and grumbles something too quiet for Megumi to hear.

Megumi tugs gently at his hair, and it earns another grunt from Itadori. “What was that?”

A flush of pink spreads across Itadori’s nose and cheekbones. Megumi’s curiosity piques when he doesn’t answer.

“Yuuji.”

“It’s nothing! Just go use the bathroom, and I’ll see if Kugisaki wants to go out for breakfast or something.”

Megumi arches a dark eyebrow. 

A groan rolls in the back of Itadori’s throat. He rolls off Megumi and flops onto his back onto his actual pillow. “Ugh, fine. I said our bed.”

Megumi stills, one leg out of the sheets on and on the floor. “What?”

“It’s not just my bed anymore. It’s ours.”

Itadori looks up at Megumi from beneath his lashes. Bashfulness isn’t a frequent patron of Itadori’s, but the flustered quirk of his mouth can’t be anything else. Megumi blinks at him.

“Okay.”

It almost sounds dumb to reply with a single word of acceptance, but Megumi can’t think of a good reason to argue. They’ve been sharing a bed for close to a month now. He only goes into his own room to change or brush his teeth, and he’s recently begun to wonder if he should pick up a spare to leave in Itadori’s bathroom.

Itadori’s eyes widen. “Okay?”

“Yes, okay. You’re right, it is our bed.” Megumi’s brow furrows, not understanding what the disconnect is. “I’m agreeing with you, Yuuji.”

“I—Okay. Cool.”

Megumi narrows his eyes. He studies Itadori’s face. “Glad we cleared that up. I’m going to use the bathroom, now.”

He leaves Itadori to his own devices and shuts the door behind himself as he enters the bathroom. It’s only once he’s splashed water onto his face and cleared the sleep from his eyes that he wonders if calling it their bed was a bigger step than he first thought.

He reemerges from the bathroom, bladder emptied, to see Itadori sitting on the edge of the bed looking at his phone. Itadori looks up at him and says, “Kugisaki says she’s down for breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you both in the entryway in half an hour. I need to change and brush my teeth.”

“Half an hour… Alright, then I’ll tell her to be ready in fifteen minutes.

Megumi snorts and makes his way to Itadori’s door. “Sneaky.”

“It’s the only way to make sure she’s on time for anything,” Itadori shrugs. “See you in a bit.”

Megumi leaves without another word. The floorboards creak under his feet, but he’s stopped caring if Kugisaki can hear from her room down the hall. She already knows about their sleeping arrangements; there’s no need for him to slink back to his room like it’s a walk of shame.

The only signs of life in his room are the dirty clothes thrown in his hamper and the slight wrinkling of his duvet. He’s attempted to sleep on his bed three times, all naps and all with poor success rates. Even though the sunlight was able to stream in through the window, he felt too cold to rest properly. It felt wrong trying to sleep in a bed that hadn’t been warmed by someone else.

The dark navy of his duvet makes the room look colder. He’s always preferred cool tones, but he’s noticed a growing fondness for warmer colors as of late. 

He thinks of the one in Itadori’s room that’s a burnt shade of carnelian. His room never feels cold. If Megumi was still willing to lie to himself he’d blame the duvet.

Shinjuku really changed things, huh?

He shakes his head.

No, he’d noticed the light and life and warmth Itadori radiated before Shinjuku. He’d noticed it the day they met and continued to notice it even after he’d passed. It was hard not to feel his absence in every inch of every room in the weeks Megumi thought Itadori was dead for good.

Thinking about Itadori’s resurrection doesn’t give him as much comfort as it used to. The memory of it has started sparking foolish thoughts in the middle of the night. He knows that they aren’t possible, they aren’t logical, and they aren’t sane. And yet, he still ponders them all the same; wondering if, one day, those he’s lost will reappear before him in the same way.

It makes his chest tight. He dismisses the memories from his mind with another, slightly rougher shake.

The small intimacy of this morning must have influenced his thoughts into wandering into dangerous places. He’s softer this morning. He’d enjoyed that tenderness before, but now it only troubles him.

He distracts himself by changing his clothes; a dark long sleeve and a pair of sleek joggers. He’d worn his usual uniform for a couple of days after waking up, but without any curses to be ready to exorcise at a moment’s notice there’d been no point.

He reaches into his drawer and digs around for his pants which are, of course, at the bottom of the dresser. He pulls out the black fabric with a final yank but a small white paper follows behind, flipping over the edge of the drawer and onto the floor.

Megumi’s blood turns cold.

Of course, it had to be in this drawer.

A speck of white sits in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t dare to look at it. He’s only been able to read it twice since Itadori gave it to him. He stuffed it into the bottom of his drawer after the second read-through when he realized he wasn’t prepared to deal with the emotional backlash that would accompany acknowledging his grief properly.

He hasn’t been able to throw it away.

He’s come close. Days where his anger and sorrow feel big enough to crush him through the floorboards. He’ll rip into his dresser like a rabid animal—determined to free himself from the reminder of his loss and guilt—until he’s holding it over the small garbage bin beside his desk. The guilt only worsens after that. He’s a terrible person for even considering tossing it like an everyday piece of trash, but the worst part is that he knows he’ll live the rest of his life with regret should he ever go through with it.

Megumi takes a deep breath through his nose. His heart thumps uncomfortably in his chest, an unsteady reminder of his weakness.

His breakdown in the store was nearly a week ago and yet the pain feels no less unbearable.

I should be getting better. Why am I not getting better? What’s wrong with my brain that I can’t let this go?

There’s a knock on his bedroom door, but he can’t seem to acknowledge it.

Answer. Answer it, he urges himself. Answer it, you idiot, don’t make things harder for everyone else.

He opens his mouth to speak but only a hoarse wheeze comes out.

The door opens. Megumi doesn’t need to look to see who it is.

“Hey, are you ready, Megumi?” Itadori chirps innocently. “Kugisaki finished like three minutes ago and she won’t stop complaining that you’re making her wait—”

The door shuts slowly and slow footsteps cross over to where he stands staring at his dresser. He feels a slight tug on his sleeve.

The only response he can offer is a hum. It doesn’t sound negative or positive. Nothing more than an acknowledgment that he’s conscious.

“Megumi,” Itadori murmurs quietly, coming up to his side. “Megumi, are you alright? What’s going on?”

Megumi sighs. He doesn’t want Itadori to see him like this. It will only worry him further, and he’s supposed to be getting better.

“Megumi—”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Just… give me a second.”

Something crunches beneath Itadori’s feet when he moves closer. The sound of it creates something visceral in Megumi that reminds him of a wheel clicking into place. He sees dark brunette hair, bones crushed against stone, and concrete slabs coated in blood. He can feel cleave and dismantle shooting from his body and dicing everything in its path. 

He lurches away from the sound with hands held high over his chest and face. He shuts his eyes, desperate to avoid what he knows isn’t really there, but it feels real. A month ago it was real. 

“—gumi? Megumi. Megumi. Megumi, please, I need you to take deep breaths and look at me, okay?”

Two gentle, yet firm hands take hold of his wrists and draw them away from his face. He flinches at the sudden touch, but the hands don’t falter.

“Please,” Megumi whimpers behind trembling hands. “I’m okay, just—Please, just leave me alone.”

Itadori’s reply is immediate. “No. I’m not going to leave when you need me.”

“Just go, I’m fine—”

“I am not leaving you.”

Moisture collects along Megumi’s bottom lash line. He can’t look at Itadori or he knows the dam keeping him together will break. “Go wait with Kugisaki, I’ll be out in a minute, I just need a second to get over this.”

“Get over—Megumi, whatever is going on isn’t something you just ‘get over’.” He sighs. “I thought we talked about this…”

Guilt gnaws at Megumi’s gut trying to make its way to devour his heart. 

He’s disappointed. You’ve disappointed him all because you couldn’t handle a fucking paper, and now he’s going to waste his morning trying to comfort you instead of enjoying breakfast with friends—

“Where do you keep going?” Itadori’s voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. He drops Megumi’s hands to cradle his face instead, but Megumi shuts his eyes. “You’re kind of freaking me out right now, and I don’t know how to help you.”

I make everything worse. I can’t deal with my own emotions, so I force others to do it instead.

“Look at me.”

He shakes his head.

“Megumi, I need you to look at me. Please…”

“I can’t,” he chokes out. “If I look at you I’ll start crying.”

Itadori sighs. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“I’m supposed to be getting better, Yuuji. That means I should be able to react to a stupid piece of paper without crying.”

“Paper…?” One hand leaves Megumi’s cheek, and he hears the sound of paper rustling. “What is this?”

Silence fills the room. Megumi’s lungs constrict with agony.

“Oh… I see.”

“I haven’t been able to read it since the day you gave it to me,” Megumi explains. Another tear slips down his cheek. “I should be able to by now.”

Itadori’s hand returns to his other cheek, and Megumi leans into the touch. He lifts his hands without thinking and clings to Itadori’s forearms.

Don’t let me go, don’t let me go, don’t let me go—

“I won’t.”

Megumi stills. He hadn’t realized he’d been mumbling his thoughts aloud.

“I’m sticking with you.” Itadori wipes another tear away with a calloused thumb. “You’re my number one, remember?”

Megumi opens his eyes.

Itadori’s face is soft. His eyes are tender. His hands are gentle. Megumi hadn’t known strength could be so gentle before he met him.

Megumi nods. He can’t find the words to voice what he’s feeling.

“Good,” Itadori sighs. “Now, why is it so important for you to reread Gojo-sensei’s note?”

Megumi bites his lip to keep it from wobbling. 

“I never kept any of the other notes he’d written me in the past. I didn’t think he’d…” He swallows. “I never thought they would stop. Or that I’d live long enough to miss them.”

Itadori studies his face. “A moment ago you said that you should be able to read it. What’s stopping you?”

A scoff slips from Megumi before he can think better of it. “What isn’t stopping me?”

“Be specific. I’m bad at reading your mind.”

“Trust me, you aren’t.

“Alright, then tell me because it will get everything off your chest. Keeping it in won’t do you any good.”

“It will save me from embarrassment…”

Itadori furrows his brow and leans in closer, determination in his honey eyes. “It’s not embarrassing to love something, Megumi.”

Megumi’s heart is caught halfway between his stomach and his throat. He blinks quickly to dismiss his tears, but it isn’t working. He looks up at the ceiling instead. “It is when it makes you irrational.”

“How is what you’re feeling irrational?”

“Because I should be better by now,” Megumi growls vehemently. “I should be able to dig through my drawers without remembering them and crying. I shouldn’t be having flashbacks of what Sukuna did with my body. I should be getting past this, I was able to get past this with you!”

Itadori stands up straighter. “What do you mean?”

Megumi regrets ever opening his mouth.

“Did you deal with my death differently?”

“...Yes.” He swallows painfully with a dry throat. “I mourned you. It fucking sucked to see you in everything and not be able to find you anywhere. But I held strong and was able to keep my emotions and mental state in check through training.”

Itadori perks up a bit at that. “Distraction and stimulation through exercise, that makes sense. You should join me and Maki in our sparring.”

“I’m not using my technique,” he snaps immediately. He hasn’t used it since Shinjuku.

“Did I say use your technique? No, I said spar. Use your fists! Your legs! Take your frustration with everything out in a healthy way instead of sitting with it.”

Megumi hesitates. “I don’t know…”

“You said it helped you in the past. It could help you now.”

“Yes, but this is different.”

“Different how?”

Megumi sighs. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Itadori winces. “Did you, like… not care that I was dead or something?”

“No, of course I cared! It’s just different. I was able to have closure with you, I knew you were going to die.”

His words catch in his throat. He hadn’t realized the difference before now, between Itadori and the others. His chest feels tight and clenches his hands into fists.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them. I was already being possessed by the time Gojo was unsealed, and the last time I spoke to Tsu—”

Megumi hasn’t spoken her name once. He’s barely allowed himself to think it. It’s always just been ‘her’ or some other vague reference to her existence. 

As if she never existed. As if she never meant anything to me.

A deep, guttural gasp for air leaves Megumi. Sweat breaks out across his forehead and his hands tremble.

I’ve been doing the exact opposite as Yuuji. He’s been trying to keep Choso’s memory alive while I’ve been burying her further underground and throwing dirt over her grave.

“My sister,” he’s finally able to choke out. He brings his arms in close to his chest, hands curling over his heart as if that will be enough to keep it from breaking. “The last time I truly spoke to her was nearly two years ago right before she was cursed. She woke up as that thing.”

Tears spill over his cheeks and this time he doesn’t try to stop them.

“I was so… so happy when she woke up. I thought I’d finally been able to do something for her and make up for being such a bratty nuisance to her my entire life. To take care of her the same way she’s always taken care of me… But she was trapped the same way I was.”

“I miss her,” he falls forward into Itadori’s chest. He lets himself fall apart in the cradle of Itadori’s embrace knowing that even as shards of himself are chipped away, Itadori will be there to catch them and help piece him back together.

He weeps in Itadori’s arms, pressing his tear-soaked face into Itadori’s shirt. “I miss Tsumiki. The last time I saw her body was when Mahoraga crushed her lungs and cut open her chest. It wasn’t her in control, but she must have felt it; felt herself dying.

“She must have been so scared… she only knew the basics of jujutsu sorcery, she couldn’t have known what was going on unless that woman told her. The last thing Tsumiki saw before she died—if she was allowed to see anything at all—was me standing over her gloating my victory.”

“She had to have known it wasn’t you,” Itadori whispers into his hair. His arms wrapped around Megumi’s torso act as a support beam keeping him anchored against his body. “You would never try to hurt her, she knew that.”

Megumi’s voice is small as he asks, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because everything you did was for her sake. It would be like if Choso tried to kill me.”

“Choso did try to kill you.”

“Yeah, but that was before he knew we were brothers. Do you think he’d ever try to intentionally hurt me after he found out?”

There’s no reply. Itadori seems to take this as a victory.

“See, you know he’d never do that, the same way Tsumiki would have never believed it was you in control of what happened. Thinking about the what-ifs won’t help you.”

“The what-ifs are all I have left,” Megumi murmurs into his shirt. “It’s my fault she was in that mess. I should have been able to save her.”

“Megumi…”

“People die all the time, but I should have been able to save her. She’s one of the few people I’ve ever promised to protect, and now she’s gone.”

Megumi bites the inside of his cheek. It doesn’t stop the tears. He bites harder and tastes blood.

“You wanted to keep her safe. You did as much as you could,” Itadori says hoarsely. “But you were a kid, too. It shouldn’t have been your responsibility to watch over each other.”

“All we had was each other until Gojo found us. And even then, it wasn’t like he was our parent. He was just some weird guy who’d come around and talk to us sometimes.”

“Did he watch over you?”

Megumi falls quiet. He breathes in the grounding scent of Itadori’s clothes hoping to find some sort of consolation in the familiarity. It reminds him of their bed and sleep and safety.

“Yeah… Yeah, he watched over us. He’d walk us back from school when he could before leaving to come back here. It was weird at first. Tsumiki was excited to have someone older watching our backs, but I was a dick to him.”

“Sounds like you. Prickly until you’re able to get past the quills, like a hedgehog.” He hums before giving a brief chuckle. “You even kind of look like one.”

Megumi, still teary-eyed, snorts, “Hedgehogs aren’t black, they’re brown.”

“Well, tell that to SEGA.”

This time, Megumi laughs hard enough that his shoulders shake. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mhm,” Itadori hums as he lifts a hand to wipe away a stray tear from Megumi’s cheek with his thumb. “But that’s okay. You can be the logical one, and I’ll be your backup.”

“You’re not my backup.”

“Alright… Partners, then. How does that sound?”

Megumi stills. Itadori must notice because his arms stiffen around him. “Or not. That’s… also cool.”

Megumi ducks his head in childish embarrassment. He’s just low enough that his breath brushes against Itadori’s collarbone as he replies, “I like partners.”

A shiver runs through Itadori. “O-Okay. Partners.”

Their eyes meet for a tentative moment, but those two seconds feel infinitely longer. 

Megumi swallows. “Partners.”

There’s another gap of silence before Itadori clears his throat. It doesn’t seem to do the trick, though, as he still sounds funny when he asks, “Are you feeling a bit better? Now that you’ve let it out more, I mean.” 

Megumi softens at the question. Itadori has always been at his most endearing when he’s asking after others, the kind-hearted bastard.

“Yes, I feel better.” He stands up straighter and wipes his face with the back of his hand. “It was a bit of a relief to get it off my chest, as selfish as that sounds.”

“It’s not selfish to talk about how something has affected you, Megumi,” Itadori says with a slight roll of his eyes. “That’s how people process things.”

Megumi grunts in frustrated acceptance. “I suppose I can understand the logic behind that…”

The corner of Itadori’s mouth quirks into a smile. “But seriously, are you alright? Do you want to stay home instead and we can make food here?”

Home?

Hearing Itadori say it aloud makes it click for Megumi that he’s never really thought of Jujutsu Tech as “home”. More of a place that he exists in than a place he goes to to find comfort. The realization unsettles him more than he likes.

The word brings out a strange longing in himself. He wonders if it’s possible to miss something you’ve never had. Something that no longer exists.

Megumi shakes himself out of his head and back into his body. He takes a deep breath before replying, “No. I want to go out to eat with you and Kugisaki.”

“Oh,” Itadori says in surprise. “You sure?”

Megumi nods.

“I want to move forward. I don’t want to be stuck here because I’m afraid of confronting the things that hurt. I…” He takes another calming breath. “I don’t want to keep myself from things that will make me happy. That’s why I want to go out to breakfast with you two; because I know it will make me happy.”

Itadori smiles. “Alright. Let’s get some grub then. Did you want to put on pants, or is this a pantless breakfast?”

Megumi looks down to see that he never actually pulled his joggers on and is currently standing in front of Itadori in only his boxers and his long-sleeve. His face flames with heat, and he pushes himself out of Itadori’s arms to collect himself.

“I’ll be wearing pants. Forgive me for not putting them on while having an emotional moment.”

Laughter bubbles out of Itadori. Megumi looks up to give him another verbal sparring, but when he sees the skin near his partner’s eyes and cheeks wrinkled with laugh lines he stills. He thinks of a future where Itadori’s face is carved from laughter and smiles instead of just wounds and scars. 

That’s it. That’s the future I want.

Itadori's laughter dissolves. He gives Megumi a questioning look. “You good there? You look sorta… dreamy.”

Megumi blinks profusely, startled by the blatancy of his emotions. His skin still feels hot, but he doesn’t try to hide it. “Um, yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.”

Itadori cocks his head. “About pants?”

“No, not about pants,” Megumi groans with a roll of his eyes. “Just things. Mind your own business.”

“But if I did that then we wouldn’t be together, now, would we?”

Megumi bites the inside of his cheek. I love you. 

Instead of speaking the confession aloud, he grumbles out a flustered, “You’re dumb.”

Another snicker comes from Itadori.

“Yeah, but you don’t mind.”

A low grunt of disapproval rumbles in Megumi’s throat, but he doesn’t correct him. He shoves his legs through the pantlegs and gives Itadori a dirty look.

“Let’s just get out of here. The sooner we leave the less Kugisaki will bitch at us for taking forever.”

“Damn, you’re right, she’s gonna give us an earful,” Itadori groans rubbing the back of his neck. He turns to the door before leaping back to Megumi. “Oh! Here, put this somewhere before it gets lost—”

He holds a small piece of paper out between his thumb and forefinger, but the crumbled ball has been refolded into neat layers. Megumi stares at it, heart thumping between his ribs. The sight of the careful, purposeful creases has him worrying that he might cry again.

“Thank you,” he says, gently taking it from Itadori’s hand.

He looks at the thin stationary and carefully considers his next move.

He shuts the dresser drawer and tentatively unfolds the letter.

Sowwy, Megumi, but your dad’s a goner!!!

I wasted his ass!!!

My bad!!!

The message makes him laugh again, and the familiar scrawl across the page makes his eyes water. It hurts to see his writing, he knew it would, but it feels cathartic; a good pain to bring about release and comfort.

He tucks the corner of the stationary into the gap between the mirror above his dresser and its frame, the contents of the letter neatly displayed. Megumi stares at it for one moment longer before turning back to Itadori.

“Alright. I’m ready to go.”

The ground greets Megumi with a rough smack to his shoulder. He cringes at the sudden shock of pain, but it dulls a moment later.

“You should try to use your legs more,” Itadori suggests from where he looms over Megumi. “You’re tall, so they’d give you some good distance between you and your opponent. Plus, it looks cool.”

Megumi scoffs. “Unlike you, I don’t have godlike strength running throughout my body, so my legs aren’t as strong as you think.”

“You think I have godlike strength?” Itadori asks with a crooked grin.

Megumi gives him a flat expression. “Just help me up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Itadori snorts and reaches out a hand. He yanks Megumi to his feet and claps him on the back. “That was a good fight, though! You’re a little rusty, but it won’t be long before you give me a real challenge.”

“Maki’s arrogance is rubbing off on you,” Megumi says with a roll of his eyes. “Now shut up and let me cool down so I can go shower, I want to rinse all this sweat off before it dries to my skin.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he stretches his arms high above his head and holds it for several seconds before relaxing his muscles with a low sigh. He falls into a side lung, repeats it on the other side, and then drops into a butterfly stretch on the floor.

The distinct lack of chatter catches Megumi’s attention.

He looks up from his hunched position to see Itadori’s eyes trained on him. His expression is fairly neutral, but he’s clearly distracted if the besotted, entranced look in his eye is anything to go by.

Megumi turns his head, desperate to hide the way his face is turning red. “Stop that.”

“Hm?” Itadori gives himself a shake which seems to return his brain to working order. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“Maki and Kugisaki are right there, have some decorum.”

“But I didn’t do anything?”

Megumi runs his tongue over his teeth and courageously looks back at his partner. He doesn’t need to say anything for Itadori to understand the meaning behind his look of disapproval.

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking with embarrassment. He glances away and rubs the back of his neck. “Gotcha. Will do.”

Megumi climbs to his feet with a grunt of exhaustion. He finally gave in to Itadori’s idea from the other day to train together and his body is suffering the consequences from his lack of practice. Itadori and Maki had started their sparring sessions at the ass crack of dawn, while Megumi and Kugisaki slowly regained consciousness and ate breakfast before joining the two in the field. They’d watched them go toe-to-toe for a few rounds before splitting into pairs of Maki with Kugisaki and Itadori with Megumi.

Megumi looks off to his left as he brushes the loose blades of grass from the back of his pants. He watches as Kugisaki darts behind Maki and throws her arms around the second year’s torso to try and lift her off her feet, but it’s to no avail; Maki twists one of Kugisaki’s arms to slip out of her grasp and sends her flipping through the air instead.

Despite being in a coma for several months, Kugisaki is regaining her muscle memory and agility rather quickly. Her missing left eye has made adjusting to the change in her depth perception a challenge, though—particularly in battle—and she’s working hard to catch up.

Kugisaki’s chest heaves with effort as the wind is knocked from her lungs, but there’s a wild and ferocious delight in her chestnut eyes. She’s always loved the adrenaline rush that often comes with battle, but she loves Maki more.

Masochist. I’m sure she’s thrilled she’s being thrown around.

Megumi sighs. He cups a hand around his mouth and shouts, “Hey, we’re calling it a day! Yuuji said he’d make lunch after we clean up!”

Both girls cheer from their spot on the grass.

“I don’t remember saying that,” Itadori grumbles to his right.

Megumi raises an eyebrow at him curiously. “Are you opposed to it? I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Itadori sighs, but there’s no reluctance behind it. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just make something easy like onigiri.”

“Sounds great. I’m going to go shower.”

He walks off without another word, but Itadori is quick to fall into place beside him. He chatters on about a new move Maki is developing as they make their way back to the dorms. Megumi doesn’t interrupt. He nods along attentively and interjects when he has something to say, but just listening to Itadori speak is enough to soothe him.

There’s a stagnated pause between them as they stop in front of Itadori’s room. Megumi lingers off to the side, ready to continue on to his own room, but Itadori reaches out and gingerly grazes his fingers.

“See you in ten,” he says with an easy smile before ducking into his room.

Megumi, still standing outside his door, flexes his hand.

He retreats into his room next door with a fluttering heart. It’s been several days since their heart-to-heart in front of Megumi’s dresser, and Itadori hasn’t been subtle about it. His eyes and hands linger when they meet Megumi’s, and he’s stopped trying to keep his distance when the night comes around. He snuggles right up to Megumi and holds him like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

Megumi isn’t used to being easy for others to care for, and yet, Itadori’s behavior makes it seem as if it’s as instinctive to him as breathing.

He pads into the bathroom and sets the water to a scalding temperature that will turn his skin rosy. He’s taken cool showers for most of his teen years—the cold water helping him focus and prepare for whatever upcoming battle awaits him–but he’s since realized that the heat relaxes his muscles and gives him a soothing reprieve from the tension he carries throughout his body. And it makes it easier for him to walk past his bathroom mirror.

He waits for the steam to cloud the glass before shucking off his sweaty and dirt-covered clothes onto the floor. It feels like he’s walking into lava when he steps into the shower. He sighs in relief enjoying the way the water soaks his hair and the heat burns away the filth from his body.

Showers are only peaceful until he has to look at himself. Seeing the jagged scars running across his arms, stomach, and chest makes him so nauseous at times he worries he’ll faint. He isn’t entirely against the thought.

He scrubs his skin until the dull pink hue has turned into a vibrant crimson. He stares at a random spot on the wall as he works to clean himself off, ignoring the way his stomach curdles when he brushes over his scars.

Shoko’s use of reverse cursed technique is useless against this kind of scarring. He’s requested her help over and over again, and each time he’s left with disappointment. After the third attempt, Shoko had to sit him down and have a long conversation about the difference between scars that affect the body and scars that affect the soul.

Reverse cursed technique can heal the former, but the latter will remain carved into a person forever. The best you can do with a soul-deep scar is accept it and push on.

His fingers brush over the rough edge of the scar cut across his right cheek and he has to press his hand over his mouth to keep from gagging.

The one positive thing about showers is the length of them. Megumi has honed his time in the shower into a craft with his shortest time on record taking four minutes. He’s quick and efficient with little time spent pampering and preening. 

It’s been a long time since he’s taken a bath. Sitting by himself, residing in a body that doesn’t completely feel like his, while staring down at a body that no longer looks familiar is a psychological kind of torture that he can’t take for longer than a few seconds. 

Showers were a compromise. He can’t just not clean himself, but if baths aren’t a possibility then showers are his only option.

Megumi’s eyes sting as the suds of shampoo drip down his forehead, but he doesn’t wipe them away. His hair is always left as the last step, a way to end his showers on a good note.

He hates touching certain parts of his body, but his hair is a constant safe zone. He doesn’t need to fear accidentally grazing a scar around the crown of his head. As long as he’s careful along his hairline, he can wash his hair without concern.

He’s come to find threading his fingers through the ebony locks is like his own brief form of meditation. He finds relief in scratching the dirt from his scalp, but if Kugisaki knew he was skipping conditioner she’d lay into him.

Megumi doesn’t mind washing his hair, but he isn’t about to make his shower longer purely for vanity and unnecessary hair care.

He shuts off the tap and is quick to reach for his towel. He pats his face dry before moving on to dab at his arms and legs. The towel is a protective barrier between his hand and his scars, providing some emotional stability as he steps out of the shower.

The mirror is still lightly fogged over, thankfully. With the towel wrapped around his waist, Megumi vacates the bathroom. He doesn’t wait for his body to completely dry before pulling on another long-sleeved shirt along with some sweatpants; he can’t bear leaving the markings uncovered for one more minute.

After a brief stint of making himself look somewhat presentable, Megumi heads to the shared kitchen. He rubs at his head with his towel to soak up the extra water as he pads down the hall and hears clanking.

Itadori is messing with the rice cooker on the kitchen counter. His workout clothes have been replaced with a teal hoodie that makes the color of his hair pop and a new pair of workout shorts. 

Megumi watches as he bobs his head along to the beat of whatever upbeat pop song is playing on his phone from where it sits on the kitchen island. Itadori gives a little shake of his hips and Megumi snorts.

Itadori jumps at the sound. He spins on his heel with wide eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees Megumi approaching with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me?” Megumi asks with an arched brow. “You hoping for someone else?”

“Pfft, as if. You’re my favorite person, it isn’t possible for me to hope for someone better.”

Megumi’s cheeks prickle with heat. He can never look Itadori in the eye when he says sappy stuff like that. It’s hard for him to believe that someone could say something like that genuinely to someone like him, but Itadori is the most earnest person he knows.

“Sweet talker,” he mumbles picking up a thick stem of ginger.

Itadori shrugs. “I’m just being honest.”

“Do you want me to shave this?” Megumi asks reaching into the silverware drawer.

“Yeah, sure.” Itadori glances back at him and gives a crooked smile. “And look at that, you’ve even grabbed a ginger spoon. Good work, young padawan.”

Megumi visibly cringes at the praise with raised shoulders and a pinched face. “Ugh, no Star Wars references, please. Watching the prequels was painful enough.”

“But we’re about to get into Rogue One! I think you’ll really like that one, there’s a lot of deeper themes and some real sacrifices are made for the overarching plot.”

“Whatever you say, film bro.”

Itadori laughs as he rinses the rice over the sink. “Just peel the ginger root, ginger root peeler.”

“Technically ginger isn’t a root, it’s a stem,” Megumi says as he turns his back to Itadori and strips the coarse outer skin from the meat. “More specifically, a rhizome.”

“I… do not know what that means.”

“A rhizome is a stem that grows underground.”

“Huh. Weird.”

Megumi opens his mouth to say that wasabi is also a species of rhizome, but Itadori distracts him by resting his chin on his shoulder. It doesn’t look too comfortable, though, as Megumi is a few inches taller than him so Itadori has to tilt his chin up to reach.

It shouldn’t take Megumi by surprise as Itadori is fairly tactile by nature, but this feels different. He glances at his partner to see Itadori already looking at him.

Megumi lifts a brow. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

Itadori nods. “Everything’s alright with me, but I am a little worried that something’s bothering you.”

“Me? Why would you think that?”

“There’s just this sort of tension around you. Your shoulders are tense, your grip on the spoon is tighter than you’d normally hold it, and you keep looking at the ground which is only something you do when something is bothering you.”

That’s quite the assessment.

Itadori is far more observant than most people give him credit for. His reputation for brute force and strength can often lead others to underestimate his level of awareness, but he notices things. His brain might be able to make sense of what he notices, but he still notices all the same.

Megumi sighs. “I’m fine, Yuuji, really. Just some… weird mental stuff that Sukuna left me with. I’ll be okay in a few minutes.”

“Sukuna stuff? Do you want to talk about it?”

The spoon in Megumi’s hand stills. He’s quick to go back to his task, but his hesitancy is obvious.

“But it can also wait until later if you don’t want to deal with it right now.” He presses his mouth to Megumi’s shoulder, muffling his words as he says, “But I do think that it’s important for you to talk about it. If anyone can understand what you’re feeling, it’s me.”

Megumi bites the inside of his cheek. Itadori has never judged him even when Megumi was certain his plights would only garner pity or contempt. He glances at Itadori again and he falls prey to those big, brown doe eyes looking up at him with empathy.

He looks back down at the ginger. He swallows heavily and says, “I feel… weird.”

It’s not detailed or descriptive language in the slightest, but it still makes his heart pound in his chest.

“This body doesn’t feel like mine anymore.” There’s a slight waver in his voice as he speaks. “It feels more like I’m a ghost inhabiting a body; like I’m not entirely here, but I also can’t go anywhere else. When I look at myself…”

Megumi lets his words trail off. Frustration bubbles up in his gut. Just say it. It’s not hard, just say that you hate being stuck with it.

“I don’t know how to exist in a body like this,” he says in a raspy whine. He grips the spoon tighter. “I can hardly bear to clean myself. I used to take a bath or shower every day, but now I can barely force myself to take one every few days. Every time I touch or—or see the scars he left, I just—”

He shuts his eyes trying to quell his panic. Itadori rests a hand on the crook of his elbow. The weight of it is enough to stabilize him, and he takes shaky breaths through his nose over and over again until the stampede of his heartbeat fades and into a slow pitter-patter.

“Seeing those scars reminds me of what happened and what he did with me. Shoko can’t heal them. I just want to move on and try to forget everything that happened, but how can I do that when every time I look in the mirror I see him?”

Megumi’s hands shake as he places the ginger and silverware on the counter. He warps his arms around himself but his grip is so tight that he can feel the prick of his nails through the cotton of his shirt.

“And once I notice it, my skin feels too tight over my bones. I get this—” he shakes his head “—this urge to scratch it off because maybe once the skin regrows I’ll finally look like me again.”

Something brushes against his hand and he jolts. Megumi’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks back into reality; he’s been staring at some vague nothingness in front of himself, disassociating, and he hadn’t even realized it.

He looks down to see Itadori slowly prying his nails out of his flesh with gentle fingertips. Panic shoots through him. He fumbles over himself to think of a way to make it sound not as bad as it is, but when he looks back at Itadori all he sees in his eyes is an intrinsic-yet-pained understanding.

Itadori searches his face, taking note of each little feature. It’s only once his eyes meet Megumi’s again that he whispers, “I get it.”

Megumi sucks in a shallow breath.

“No, really, I—I get it. Not in exactly the same way, but I know what it feels like not to recognize yourself.” Itadori sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Shoko said the same thing when she finally got a look at the scars Mahito gave me. All they did was remind me of how I’d failed. Nanamin—”

Itadori wrinkles his nose aggressively and Megumi softens when he recognizes it. It’s something he does when he’s trying not to cry or get overly emotional.

“I couldn’t save Nanamin. I was absolutely no help to him and while he was killed all that I was left with were these.”

He touches a hand to the rough skin splitting across his forehead and down the side of his nose.

“It was weird. I avoided looking into anything that might show my reflection because I hated to see my failures carved into my face and yet it also felt unfair that I wasn’t left with something much worse.” Itadori shoves his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “I felt guilty that I couldn’t save him, and then even more guilty that I didn’t want to see that failure when all I was left with in comparison was a paper cut. I figured the best I could do to make up for my mistakes was to try and be better than I was.”

“You went through something traumatic, Yuuji,” Megumi interjects, fully turning to face him. “And Nanami-san would be relieved that this was all you were left with. He would never think it was unfair.”

“I know. He was a great mentor. He always tried to shift the responsibilities from my shoulders onto his own.” Itadori looks down at his hand and flexes. “Reverse cursed technique… I wish I was experienced enough with it to pick and choose which parts to heal. I ended up healing everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like healing everything. It feels like there’s something that’s been taken from me when I look at myself and don’t see the evidence of a fight.”

"Do you... want scars?" Megumi asks, trying to understand.

Itadori sighs. “My body remembers where I was hurt. My brain remembers where I was hurt. It’s like I can still feel where the scarring should be, so when I look down at my arms and see fresh skin… It feels like I’m just supposed to forget what happened.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful I’m healed and still alive, but…” He taps at the scar crossing his face, slicing through his eyebrow. “This reminds me of what I fought for and how hard I fought. It’s a reminder of what I was able to survive. So seeing the damage Sukuna inflicted be stripped away… I don’t know. It makes me feel like the pain I dealt with was meaningless.”

“Why haven’t you ever said anything about this before?” Megumi whispers.

Itadori looks up at him before ducking his face away.

“Everyone else hates their scars. You hate the scars Sukuna left. And yet, here I am, wishing I had mine back. It feels like I’m being ungrateful when I know Inumaki-san will never get his arms back and you’ll keep your scars forever.”

He rubs roughly at his face as if trying to wipe away a stain.

“I lost an eye. I was fully prepared to go full eyepatch like Kugisaki, but… I’m fine. I healed it, so now it’s like I never even fought Sukuna. I look the same way I did before him, but I feel different. It’s like looking at an entirely different person when I see myself now. I look the same, but I remember how deeply I was cut, bruised, and beaten. I remember it. I remember…”

He shakes his head to dismiss the spiraling thoughts. He g;ances back up at Megumi. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to complain when there’s nothing to complain about.”

“Don’t apologize. Not being able to recognize yourself…” Megumi trails off. “I get it.”

Itadori meets his gaze for only a heartbeat before looking away. His voice is hesitant as he asks, “Is it—Is it weird? Not having him there all the time?”

Megumi stills. The question strikes some prey instinct within him to run and evade the fear is snapping at his heels. He chooses to remain silent, but his fingers scrape against the slick tile of the countertop.

“I remember feeling weird,” Itadori continues. “It felt so freeing to finally be rid of him… but also lonely? He was just so constant. I forgot what it was like to be on my own.”

“Why do you mean? Why are you telling me this?” The anger in Megumi’s voice surprises himself. He doesn’t know what the fear that’s driving him away is, but it’s something he’s afraid of looking at too closely. He’s afraid that it might be true. “Are you trying to ask me if I miss that—that monster?”

Itadori flinches like he’s been struck.

The reflex sends a ripple of shame through him only to settle in his chest where it mixes with his anger spirling into a cyclone of deep-seated fear that rots him from the inside out.

“After everything he did to me, to you, to everyone I love, you’re asking if I miss him? What the fuck is wrong with you? What sort of person would miss—”

“I did.”

Itadori’s voice is so frail that Megumi almost doesn’t hear him. His tirade halts as soon as his brain registers what he’s spoken—what he’s admitted— and he stares, wide-eyed, at the hunched-over figure beside him.

“I missed him,” Itadori repeats a bit louder this time. His face is completely turned away from Megumi, but he stares down at his battle-calloused hands. 

“Not… not him but the familiarity of him. He was with me for so long that it was hard to remember what it was like before him, and the not knowing scared me. At least the torture of being stuck with him was something I could predict.”

Megumi lurches away from him clutching his chest. He’s only ever felt the blow of a black flash once before, and this doesn’t feel much different.

His voice is hoarse and raspy as he croaks, “A-Aren’t you ashamed of that? He took so much from you and yet you’re still letting him get to you—”

“I’m not letting him do anything, Megumi,” Itadori interrupts. He’s finally looking back at his partner, eyes locked on his face. “I’m acknowledging my feelings so I can let them go. I found a life because of him, I was given a purpose and goal because of how I was tied to him. If I can’t accept that I miss the purpose he gave me, how can I move on?”

“He didn’t give me a purpose, he took my purpose.” Megumi bites the words out like they’re poison on his tongue. “The only thing I was ever supposed to be was a jujutsu sorcerer. I was supposed to live and die as one, but now I can’t even use the technique written into my cursed energy because the only thing I can feel when I activate it is him.”

He drags both hands through his hair, the snarl of tangles catching on his fingers and only stirring up his anger even more. “He made my shadows filthy and used them to hurt and kill the people I love. The one thing I was ever good for is fucking useless because of him. He stole my body from me and I’m scared that I’m never going to feel like me again.

“And he fucking—” Megumi cuts himself off sharply to release an aggravated snarl. “He took everything from me and yet I still think about how much easier it was when he was in control. If I couldn’t be useful in a fight, then the best thing that I could do for you all was to give up my life so you could put an end to him.

“And the worst part is that it feels empty now without him. A body is so much bigger when you’re not crammed inside of it. Instead of feeling free I just feel even smaller.” Megumi presses his hands over his face. He crushes his fingers together blocking out the last bit of light shining through the gaps. 

“I want to go back to normal. I want to be normal. I miss who I was before him.”

It only takes a second for Itadori to cross the hardwood floor. Megumi reaches for him halfway. Their bodies crush together, clutching and clinging to each other desperately as if some external force is coming to tear them apart.

“I’m sorry,” Itadori gasps through tears as his arms curl around Megumi’s back and his hands thread into the inky snare of his hair. “I’m so sorry, Megumi.”

Megumi presses his face into the crook of Itadori’s neck. His breath shakes with every inhale. His hands scramble for purchase over Itadori’s back trying to root himself in reality with the sturdy familiarity of the muscle he’s gained.

He can barely make out the words Itadori whispers into his hair—soft and persevering and fierce—but his spirit clings to them so fervently that there’s no mistaking that claw marks will be left in his wake.

“I’m here,” Itadori murmurs against the shell of his ear. “I’m here with you, you’re not alone, you have people who love you—”

He repeats the same words over and over again speaking in soothing, dulcet tones. Tremors wrack Megumi’s body, but the constitution behind Itadori’s embrace doesn’t waver. He keeps him close as their heartbeats fall in time with each other, measure for measure.

“You’ve been hurt, but you’re not broken. Your decision to stay and fight is proof of that.”

Megumi’s throat feels tight. He runs his hands further up Itadori’s back to claw at the jut of his shoulders. “What if I’m never able to get back to who I was?”

“I don’t need Fushiguro the sorcerer in order to be satisfied. The sun could burn out before he ever returns and I’d still be content.” Itadori says it with such fierce determination that he leaves no room for an argument. “As long as I have you—the living, breathing Megumi— don’t need anything else. Your shadows are a part of you, but they aren’t all you are. You don’t need to be anyone but who you are right now. A century could pass of you never using your shadows, and I’d still want you to stay because I love you. Not what you can give me.”

The exhale that Megumi pushes from his lungs feels like a release. A liberation from the fears that crawl under his skin, around the edges of his thoughts, and in the darkest corners of his heart when he’s exhausted his strength.

He breathes in and out taking stock of the boy embracing him. The soft cotton of his clothes, the steadiness of his shoulder, and the certainty of his hands around his waist; they all tell Megumi that when he climbs out of this pit he won’t be alone.

“I love you.” The words slip out from his subconscious, but he doesn’t retract them. “I knew I would love you from that very first day. I don’t know why or how when I barely knew anything about you, but I did. I love you.”

A smile cracks at the corner of his lips when he feels Itadori’s pulse jump beneath his skin. He lifts his face from Itadori’s collarbone—tears still lingering along his lashline—to look him in the eye for what he’s going to say next. Itadori’s gaze is so intense that Megumi shivers as his partner’s hand slides from his hair to the curve of his neck.

“I’ve never once regretted saving you.”

They’re the same words he’d spoken what feels like an entire lifetime ago.

“You’ve become one of the few constants in my life, and I will fight with everything I have to stay with you. I’m going to keep you this time, no matter what.”

Itadori’s eyes are large and round as he takes in his words, but there’s a flame lit within the amber depths igniting him from the inside out. He runs his thumb along the angle of Megumi’s jawline and leans in close.

Megumi sucks in a sharp breath as Itadori's mouth presses against the corner of his right eye, brushing the rough edge of his scar to kiss his tears away. He rests their foreheads together with those bright eyes still burning like molten ore.

“We’re in this together,” he rasps. “You love me and I love you, which means you’re stuck with me. No takebacks.”

Megumi snorts before he can stop himself. The petulant phrasing is just so him that he can’t help but laugh. “No takebacks. Not even if you manage to burn rice.”

He gives a pointed look at the beeping rice cooker on the counter and takes a step back to signal that it’s time to return to the task at hand, but Itadori chases after him. He stays in Megumi’s space and wraps an arm around his waist drawing a small grunt of surprise from his partner.

“Yuuji, what are you—”

“Can… Can I kiss you? Please?”

Heat rushes to Megumi’s cheeks. He’d recognized the look in Itadori’s eyes, he should have suspected this was coming. He’s seen that same starry-eyed look a thousand times before when they’ve had moments where Itadori’s gaze lingers on his face for too long.

“B-But the rice.” He trips over his excuse when his eyes flit down to Itadori’s mouth. “It—It’ll burn—”

“It can start a fire in this building for all I care, just answer my question.”

Itadori leans in closer, his breath just ghosting his partner’s skin. Megumi has never cared much for the taste of alcohol, but the intensity of Itadori’s gaze is swirling his brown eyes into an intoxicating whiskey that makes him want to tempt fate and try it again.

“That’s not very conscientious of our safety,” Megumi rasps hoarsely enough that the wheezing in his lungs sounds brittle.

“We survived a psychopathic serial killer curse, I think we’ll be okay—Megumi, please, I’m about to go crazy if you don’t say something—”

“Yes, yes, obviously I’m saying yes—”

Itadori is a contradiction in himself; he’s brusque as he drags Megumi in by the waist pulling him roughly against himself, but he cups his cheek with such tenderness that the contrast has Megumi feeling like he’s been dunked in ice water.

Itadori’s lips are slightly chapped, but the rough scratch of them makes Megumi feel dizzy. His hands slide up Itadori’s chest to grab onto the front collar of his hoodie and haul him in closer.

Whatever reasons Megumi had for not crossing this boundary line now feel absurd. He could have been kissing Itadori for months now, but instead he chose healthy coping habits like a buffoon.

Itadori makes a noise that sounds halfway between a sigh and a moan that sends a chill down Megumi’s spine and electricity through his veins. His breath catches in his throat, gasping into the kiss.

The hand on his cheek falls to his neck to hold him just beneath the angle of his jaw as Itadori kisses him again. And again. And again.

It feels like fighting gravity when they finally pull away from each other. Both of their chests heave with unsteady breaths, but it’s the same rush of adrenaline and victory that comes after defeating a powerful opponent.

Megumi runs his tongue over his lips. “I, um, that was… Ugh, how are you so good at everything?”

Itadori puffs out a laugh. “I’m sure there are some things I’m bad at.”

“Not that, apparently.”

“Damn, that good, huh?”

Megumi scoffs at the smug tone and presses a hand to his chest pushing them slightly further apart. “Don’t pat yourself on the back too much; I have nothing else to compare it to. You could be awful and I’m merely ignorant of it.”

“But you did like it,” Itadori teases, not put down at all by the new distance. The arm around Megumi’s waist relaxes and his hand falls to the small of his back. “I totally rocked your world.”

Megumi wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Gross, don’t phrase it like that. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been avoiding the word ‘kiss’ like an immature child.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss—I’ll say it as many times as you want if it means we can do it again.”

“Do not say it like that, especially in front of Kugisaki,” Megumi hisses as he slaps a hand over Itadori’s mouth. Heat crawls up his neck when he feels Itadori pucker his lips to kiss his palm, and he yanks his hand away to rub it on his pants.

Itadori’s jaw falls open with eyes blown wide. “I cannot believe you just did that, you jerk! Don’t wipe off my kiss!”

Megumi untangles himself from Itadori’s grasp and takes a step back. The unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat aligns with the burning desire in his chest, and Megumi doesn’t need to embarrass himself any more than he already has by showing his hand.

“Stop talking to me, we’re supposed to make lunch for the girls. We’ve already gotten distracted enough.”

“Distracted, huh?” Itadori turns to let his back rest against the counter.

Megumi can feel his eyes on him, but he doesn’t look over. He knows everything he’s feeling will be written on his face.

He grabs the ginger and gets back to work. “Stop looking at me like that. You still haven’t taken care of the rice, and it’s either going to get all mushy or it’s going to burn—”

“Alright, alright,” Itadori mutters under his breath.

Megumi can hear him scooping out the rice into a smaller tray as he finishes with the ginger. A comfortable silence falls over the two of them as they work until finally, Itadori breaks it.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

Megumi’s hand stills. He bites his lip and twists the spoon where it’s pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “So why haven’t you? It’s not like I would have rejected you.”

“It didn’t feel right to take that step when you were still dealing with everything. You needed routine and familiarity. Trying to navigate the beginnings of a new relationship doesn’t exactly fall in line with those.”

Megumi glances over to see him mixing the rice with the furikake. “When did you know?”

“Know when I first wanted to kiss you or know that we were ready to take the next step?”

“Both.”

Itadori hums. His face turns dour as he skims through his memories, and Megumi knows it must not have been a happy moment.

“I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I was conscious of it until you came back, but I realized what I felt for you was stronger than a normal friendship the day he left with you.”

Megumi’s nostrils flare at the mention of Sukuna, especially from that day. So many things had gone wrong right when they thought they were out of the woods. “I can’t imagine how anything about that day felt especially romantic…”

“It wasn’t anything soft that made me realize it,” Itadori grumbles through clenched teeth. “It was once I saw him with your face instead of mine that it started clicking. It was such an indescribable dread… Something so soul-sucking that it terrified me to my core.”

He meets Megumi’s eyes for a brief moment before looking away.

“Chasing after you… that was the moment. All I could think was that I didn’t want him to take you from me; it was repeating in my head, over and over again. I was desperate to keep you with us, I barely felt the slashes he sent at me when I tried to follow you. Realizing how I felt about you while actively losing you… I don’t recommend the experience. I wish it was something not so traumatizing.”

“I knew before I lost you,” Megumi hums in understanding. “As embarrassing as it is, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you ate that stupid finger.”

“The finger, really? That’s what did it for you?”

Megumi clicks his tongue in disapproval. “It wasn't the finger, smartass, it was the fact that you were so willing to risk everything for some guy you just met. You barely even knew my name and yet you threw yourself into danger to try and help me, not to mention your initial suicidal rescue attempt to save your friends.”

“I couldn’t just not try to help,” Itadori snorts. “It would have been messed up if I just left the curse for you to deal with alone.”

Megumi watches him pour oil into a pan over the stove. His body moves with a fluidity that Megumi has become familiar with in the last year of Itadori’s attendance at the school. He’s been through so much, but he still moves with the ease of someone optimistic about the future.

So much has changed since the night they met, and yet Itadori has somehow kept his soul intact. 

“I’m—” Itadori barks out before snapping his teeth shut. He taps the countertop with an anxious finger, buying time to organize his thoughts. There’s something broken in his voice when he finally croaks, “I’m sorry.”

Megumi stares at his hunched shoulders. He waits.

“I’m sorry I was—I wasn’t strong enough to keep him contained. It was the one thing I was supposed to be able to do, and I couldn’t do it.” Itadori takes a deep breath before rasping, “I’m so sorry, Megumi.”

A memory of Sukuna lunging for him flickers across his vision, of something fleshy and bloody being shoved down his throat.

It makes him flinch. He hates that he still flinches.

“You couldn’t have known,” he chokes out, desperate to dismiss the phantom haunting his memories. “You wouldn’t have remembered your pact.”

He looks back up to see Itadori staring at him wide-eyed. Horror is etched into every inch of his face. “Wh…What? What pact?”

Dread bubbles deep in Megumi’s gut.

“Megumi, what pact—”

“He made a pact with you that he would bring you back to life if you let him use your body for one minute upon saying the word ‘enchain’.”

The corner of Itadori’s mouth twitches and he wrinkles his nose as he tries not to cry. He slowly raises his hands to his face and presses them tightly against his skin.

“Fuck,” he hisses in a voice that sounds like it’s being dragged over shattered glass. “Fuck, how could I have been so fucking stupid—”

“You made him promise not to hurt anyone,” Megumi interrupts before he can spiral any further. “He didn’t know if you included yourself in the pact when you made it, so he took a massive risk when he injured your body. He would have been torn apart by the binding vow if you had.”

“I was an idiot to have made a pact with him in the first place, he was a fucking monster, what the fuck is wrong with me—”

Megumi bridges the gap between them with two steps. He takes Itadori’s face in his hands and forces him to meet his eyes. “You didn’t know. None of us knew how terrible he was. We—”

He swallows, throat dry.

“We thought we knew, but—but we didn’t. Not until the end.” He runs his thumb across Itadori’s cheek, swiping at the stray tear sliding down his face. “It wasn’t your fault, Yuuji.”

“If I hadn’t agreed to that pact—”

“If I was as strong as you, Sukuna would never have been able to cause as much pain as he did. Do you blame me for not being able to take my body back under control?”

Itadori’s eyes widen, griefstricken. “No, of course not—”

“Then why would I blame you? Why would anyone blame you for being manipulated by that psychopath?”

Itadori glances away. “But Kusakabe-san said—”

“Fuck that guy. Who gives a shit what that old codger thinks? He’s a coward, and he was barely involved in the fight. You gave everything to kill Sukuna. You’re the reason I’m here right now. Think of everything you’ve been able to accomplish and the victories you’ve had, not of the few things you couldn’t do.”

Itadori blinks up at him with big, brown, wet eyes. His lower lip quivers ever so slightly and Megumi sighs.

Steeling his nerves, he leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose. Itadori's face wrinkles in surprise, but the sadness leaves his eyes and is replaced with awe. 

Megumi considers it a win.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats in a soft whisper. “It wasn’t your fault, Yuuji.”

Itadori bites his lip. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks his tears away and Megumi is struck by how lovely he is.

“I love you.”

Megumi’s heart leaps between his ribs when he pushes the words from his lips. Verbal confessions of care and affection have been foreign to him for most of his life. Every time he reveals how deeply he cares for something he feels like a deer walking into an open meadow while somebody aims their crosshairs at his anxious heart.

He takes a deep breath. “Five things.”

Itadori blinks at him and furrows his brow in confusion. “What?”

“Give me five things you would miss; five things that you’re grateful you stayed for.”

Itadori’s eyes flicker with emotion. He lifts his hands to press them over Megumi’s, his fingers gently dipping into his partner’s palms. He turns his face into one of Megumi’s palms placing a delicate kiss on his wrist.

“Onigiri,” he speaks, voice still trembling slightly. “It’s just complicated enough to keep my attention and just simple enough that it doesn’t take too long to finish.”

Megumi has to purse his lips together to keep from smiling. “Sounds like you.”

“Movies. I’d miss out on a lot of new movies if I was dead, so I’m glad I’m here to watch them.”

“Even the bad ones?”

“The bad ones let you appreciate the good ones even more.”

“That’s a mature outlook for a fifteen-year-old.”

“I’m going to be sixteen next month…”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “Just give me three more.”

“Waking up next to you,” Itadori says with a bashful smile. “It’s a lot nicer than waking up alone. It’s nice holding you. It makes me feel safer than when I slept alone.”

Megumi wants to break eye contact, but he forces himself to keep Itadori’s gaze. Heat blooms down the back of his neck. “I can’t believe you’re able to say that out loud.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s how I feel.”

“Most people don’t find it as easy as you do, Yuuji.”

Itadori hums contemplatively before shrugging. “They just have to practice. Everything is harder to do if you don’t practice.”

Megumi’s eyes search his face. It’s impressive how insightful he can be without trying.

“I think I’m getting better at practicing,” he murmurs.

“You are.” A smile tugs at the corner of Itadori’s mouth. “I’ve noticed.”

With a tight throat, Megumi rasps, “Four. What’s number four.”

“Ummmmm,” Itadori trills, holding out the ‘m’ for longer than necessary. He clicks his tongue. “Wow, it’s hard thinking of things on the spot.”

“Now you know how I feel each night.”

“Yeah, but you’re way smarter than me. And more creative.”

“I don’t know about that second one...”

Itadori snorts. “Okay, let’s see… Sparring? It’s fun being able to go all out against Maki-san. She’s still leagues better than me, so I don’t have to worry about actually hurting her. And it’s nice having an outlet and getting my energy out while feeling like I’m improving at something.”

He dips his gaze to the floor, suddenly shy. “That’s why I think training with us will help you. It will give you a feeling of control over your body, one you didn’t have when Sukuna was with you. I’m hoping it will help make your body feel like yours again.”

“Oh,” Megumi whispers. His breath rattles in his throat.

Itadori squeezes his hands still cupping his cheeks. “Are you okay? Was that something I should have kept to myself?”

“No, no, it’s—it helps. Knowing you’re trying to think of ways to help me…”

Megumi looks up to try and keep the tears from coming. “It means a lot. The only people who’ve ever cared about me like that were—”

He sucks in a sharp breath and shuts his eyes. He counts silently to five in his head before finishing, “Were Tsumiki and Gojo.”

Itadori kisses his hand again. There isn’t anything he can say that will ease the pain, and he knows it. The best he can do is show that he’s here, present.

Megumi releases a heavy sigh and opens his eyes. “Okay, what’s your last one?”

“Oh, that’s easy; it’s you, obviously.”

“Flattery won’t get you any brownie points with me.”

“It’s like you said, you’re my number one. If I can be your number one, you’re most definitely my number one.”

Itadori’s eyes flit over his face. “You helped save me, after Shibuya. You gave me a purpose. You went looking for me. I’ve never had anyone to look for me before, other than my grandfather.

“You make me happy that I’m here. That I get to experience all of this with you,” Itadori breathes. “I’m grateful I’m alive to love you.”

Megumi tugs him forward and presses their lips together. Tears line his lashes, but he’s gotten used to feeling big emotions when he’s with Itadori. Because of him, he’s learned that even negative emotions can still be good.

Most of the gravestones look roughly the same. There are some differences in size and the shades of monochrome stone, but the general shape is the same.

Shoko had insisted on having them buried beside each other in the same cemetery. The healer was adamant in every discussion that things be that way, and Megumi wasn’t about to challenge the startling certainty in her voice.

Gojo’s pale gray-white marble is a sharp contrast to the obsidian black headstone beside his.

For most of his life, Megumi had only heard murmurings of this Geto person from some older sorcerers and occasionally from the second years, but everything he heard was spat in a tone of either disappointment or disgust. Even Okkotsu—someone who seemed to make friends with everyone he came across—didn’t seem happy to recount his experience with the curse user.

Visits from Shoko became more common as the weeks passed. She played them off as standard physical and mental health check-ins for the students impacted by Shinjuku, but Megumi noticed that she kept a closer eye on him than the others.

He’d gone to her willingly. She was the only other person alive who had recognized Gojo as he was; a fallible man with a fractured heart who had always tried to do what he thought best, even if that best was to his detriment.

She told Megumi stories of their high school years and beyond. She told him about the things he’d always wondered about but hadn’t fought to ask about. He wishes he’d tried a bit harder.

She skated around this Geto person’s name a few times before Megumi outright asked her who he was. She’d taken a long drag of her cigarette before answering, “He was Gojo’s,” and leaving it at that.

Megumi had asked Gojo the same question only once. The devastation that crossed his face for that one second of surprise had troubled Megumi enough that he’d dismissed the need for an answer. At the time, the knowledge that there was something in the world that could make The Strongest weak had frightened him. Who was Gojo if not all-powerful?

These days, Megumi regrets his lack of empathy. He wishes he had appreciated the glimpse of vulnerability. Gojo didn’t begin and end with his power—he was human, too.

He wipes the stone with slow, purposeful strokes. The lingering dirt and debris don’t put up much of a fight as they detach from the stone to cling to the damp towel. The graves on Jujutsu Tech’s campus are cleaned often, but Megumi has found his own form of atonement in taking care of the one who had watched over him.

GOJO SATORU

1989-2018

BELOVED MENTOR, BROTHER, AND FRIEND

THE STRONGEST

“You did everything for us. For everyone. Now you can rest.” Megumi’s jaw flexes and his voice is thin and reedy as he rasps, “Thank you for taking care of us.”

He rests a hand on the top of the smooth stone. It feels like a goodbye. He supposes it is. He won’t be back in Tokyo for a while.

He turns around to meet Itadori’s eyes from where he’s been patiently watching a few feet in front of Gojo’s plot.

“Are you ready to see her?” Itadori asks softly. He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. They’re not there to mourn, but Itadori had said he would feel weird not wearing anything black.

Megumi nods.

Itadori reaches out to pull Megumi from his knees, interlocking their fingers as they make their way down the long aisle of sacrifices and stone.

It’s a fifteen-minute bus ride to the other cemetery. Shoko had chosen somewhere close enough to the school that you could get there without much hassle since Megumi hadn’t been around to be able to pick a site for her.

“The world of jujutsu wasn’t kind to her. I figured you wouldn’t want her surrounded by the same people who made things harder for you two.”

She chose well. It’s a smaller cemetery, with sprigs of wildflowers blooming around the edges of the grounds. Itadori stops to pick a few and tucks them into the small bouquet Megumi is holding of blue hydrangeas.

The walk to her plot always makes Megumi feel like he’s wearing lead shoes. He’d been more than hesitant to go see her the first time, but the weight becomes lighter and lighter with each visit. It’s good to see her, despite the pain.

The guilt persists, however. He doesn’t think that’s something he’ll ever fully lose, even if it eventually dims day by day, year by year; it will remain a part of him until the day he dies. 

His throat feels tight as he takes in the sight of the gravestone, emotion choking the air from his lungs. He takes a deep breath in through his nose before stepping forward to place the bouquet on the altar.

Fushiguro Tsumiki

2001-2018

Kind, Patient, Good

She was always thinking of those she loved.

“Hi, Tsumiki,” Megumi whispers. He swallows down his grief to settle at the base of the stone. “This is the last time we’re going to be able to come and see you for a while.”

He crosses his hands over his lap. “I’m leaving Tokyo. For now, at least. We’re going to Miyagi to visit Yuuji’s grandfather, and I want to see where he grew up with my own eyes this time.”

His eyes dart across the gravestone to the altar to the grass before back to the stone. He toys with the fabric of his pants.

“I haven’t really let myself see any of Japan before. I’ve been places for missions, but those were always an exorcise then leave type deal unless Gojo forced me to enjoy it. I figured I might as well see as much as I can while I still can. I—”

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he clenches his pant legs in a tight grip.

“I wish I could see them with you,” he chokes out. “I should have taken you to more places. You were stuck here because of me, and I didn’t even consider what you might have wanted.”

A steady hand falls on Megumi’s shoulder. He instinctively reaches up to place his own atop it. He shuts his eyes and takes several deep breaths to ground himself.

He talks. For a long while he talks about nothing and everything: the new recipes Itadori has attempted with mixed success and failure, how Maki finally confronted Kugisaki about what she really means when she goes on about how much she adores her, the new short-sleeved shirts he bought for the incoming warm weather from an outlet mall with Itadori, and everything in between.

He tells her their plans for the future. How they’re planning to meet up with Kugisaki and Maki—who have already left Tokyo to travel on their own—in Hokkaido after their Miyagi trip, and how they’ve discussed traveling to Africa with Okkotsu sometime in the next couple of years once they’ve explored Japan.

“I miss you, Tsumiki,” he finally whispers to the marble stone before him. “I think of you often. Bees pollinating flowers, kids playing together in the park—hell, even the strawberry milk you threw at me makes me think of you. I love you and I miss you. I’ll be thinking of you wherever I go.”

He stands up on shaky legs but doesn’t falter. Itadori touches a hand to the center of his back, comforting and reassuring to help him stand tall.

“Thanks,” Megumi murmurs as he takes another look at his sister’s memorial. He takes Itadori’s hand for additional strength. “I wish she’d gotten to meet you. She would have liked you.”

“She did, in a way.” Itadori’s voice isn’t pitying or overtly sympathetic. It’s gentle yet matter-of-fact as if talking about something he knows for certain. “Yorozu might have been in control at the time, but she was still introduced to me and got to see you as you were.”

He squeezes Megumi’s hand and stands up straighter as he directs his attention to the gravestone. His voice is serious and determined as he says, “I’ll watch over him for you. I’ll make sure he eats, sleeps, and takes care of himself the same way you did.”

They stand there in a long moment of silence before Megumi whispers, “It’s always going to feel like this, isn’t it? The grief, and guilt, and heartache… I can’t imagine that I’ll ever overcome those feelings, and I know it’s the same for you. It’s always going to be a part of us.”

Itadori hums. “Maybe. Probably.”

Megumi sighs. It’s not the optimistic outlook he’d been hoping to see Itadori turn, but it is realistic. The silence returns for another brief moment of stillness, but Itadori doesn’t let it persist.

“I bet there are some things we’ll never be able to truly move on from. Too much has happened for us to not be permanently affected. But maybe the best we can do is try to accept those things and live despite it.”

Megumi looks over at him. He’s an inch or two taller since he first started back in June, but Megumi has grown, too. They’ve changed, even as they’ve stayed the same.

“Five things,” he says without thinking.

“Yakisoba,” Itadori replies without missing a beat. “The color green. Train rides. Lord of the Rings. You.”

He glances at Megumi. “Five things?”

“Wildflowers. Salted popcorn. Ginger. Dogs.” Megumi squeezes his hand. “You.”

“Damn, I should have said dogs.”

“Just say it next time.”

“I can’t do that! You’ll think I’m copying you.”

“I can promise you I won’t think that,” Megumi snorts.

“I’ll say cats instead. I like cats! You think listing cats is different enough, right?”

“Whatever ends this made-up debate you’ve created the quickest is my answer.”

Itadori laughs, and Megumi soaks it up like sunlight.

“So? Are you ready to head back home?” Itadori asks with an inquisitive quirk of his eyebrow.

Home. Megumi ponders the word. I don’t remember having something I considered home.

A home had always been a pipe dream that Megumi had never imagined he’d find, only a building where he’d eat, sleep, and reside. A home was something you found comfort, love, and reassurance in; something you found yourself looking forward to seeing at the end of a long day.

His gazes drifts over Itadori.

Comfort. Love. Reassurance.

Megumi returns his smile with a small nod and a grin of his own.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”