Chapter Text
Yuji slams his hands down on the counter, shocked. The sudden action makes the florist jump a little in surprise, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
“What? What do you mean the shop is closing for good?” he shouts, a mix of horror and sadness written on his face, slapping both hands to the side of his head almost comically.
The florist smiles at him solemnly, nodding her head sadly as she folds her hands together. “I know. I’m sorry Yuji, but we just can’t keep this place open anymore. It’s just a tiny flower stand in the middle of the street, and we haven’t even made enough sales lately to cover the costs of keeping this shop open. Most of the flowers just end up in the trash now.”
She pauses, glancing over at the heap of dying plants in the corner of the shop before turning back towards Yuji, who pouts at her with the sad eyes of a kicked puppy. “The owner has gotten really sick, and I can’t afford to run this place on my own either, so…”
Yuji slams his hands on the counter again, eyes lit with determination. The florist squeaks and jumps up again, higher than before.
“I’ll buy out your entire stock!” He yells vigorously, fists pumped in the air like a cartoon character. “That’ll be enough to keep the shop open, right?”
The lady laughs at Yuji’s dramatic expression and gently pats his shoulder.
“Maybe for a little bit, but that’s not a permanent solution to the issue. No amount of flowers sold will heal the shopkeeper’s illness,” She responds, voice tinged with sadness. She pauses for a moment, but continues with a lighter, teasing tone. “And hey, aren’t you a college student, Yuji? Do you really have that kind of money?”
Yuji scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, giving her an embarrassed smile. “Well…I guess not…but it’s the thought that counts, right?”
The florist smiles sympathetically at him. “Of course it does. It’s alright, Yuji. You don’t have to buy anything you don’t actually want or can’t afford. Speaking of which, are you still planning on getting flowers for your grandfather?”
Yuji blinks blankly, almost forgetting why he came in the first place. “Oh, right!” He exclaims, reaching over to snag the same bouquet he always took and placing it on the counter. He used to carefully pick out each individual flower for the right combination, but Yuji's visits became so frequent that the florist ended up making it a standard bouquet to save him some time and effort.
Yuji wordlessly slides a 7.000 yen bill towards the florist, who raises an eyebrow in confusion. “It’s only 5.000 yen, like always. Don’t tell me you forgot the price, Yuji.”
“Nah, I didn't," he grins. “I just thought it might help a bit.”
The florist stares for a moment before breaking out in laughter and ruffling Yuji’s pinkish blonde colored hair. “You’re a good kid, Yuji. Thanks for always visiting. It means a lot to us,” she responds warmly, handing the bouquet of bright yellow flowers back to Yuji.
He looks down at the flowers: yellow gerberas with white carnations, as always. Well, he thought, Maybe not anymore, since I won’t be able to go here anymore. He looks up at the florist and smiles back at her.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Yuji groans, dragging his hands down his face as he faceplants onto the cold desk.
Visiting his grandpa was fine, as usual. Ojii-San made a fuss about Yuji being late after spending extra time at the flower shop, but it was obvious his grandpa didn't actually think it was a big deal and was only pestering him out of habit. Yuji had placed the bouquet by his window like he always did, the sunny yellow flowers bright in the otherwise bland hospital room. He always bought the same ones, but he forgot the real reason why; there was probably meaning behind the flowers he chose, but Yuji's walnut brain was only capable of understanding that they looked nice and nothing beyond that. Luckily for him, the flowers were pleasant enough that even his grandpa didn't have any gripes with it, which was an impressive feat.
No, it wasn’t the flowers that were the problem. It was where to get them.
See, Yuji last saw his grandfather on Saturday morning as usual, dropping by the flower stand a few minutes before his usual visit at 11:00 am. The next day, he wanted to stop by the flower shop again to see if they were still up, but it had already shut down, empty and devoid of life as if nothing was there to begin with. The florist and the shopkeeper had left no traces either. Yuji wondered if he would ever see them again.
In the following days, Yuji returned to where the flower shop used to be several times, as if it would magically pop back into existence if he tried hard enough. He even surveyed the surrounding area near the hospital, looking for a possible replacement, but it was futile. Eventually, the flower shop left Yuji's mind, and he stopped looking for something that wasn't there.
Unfortunately, it was Friday now, and he still didn't have a flower shop to go to before visiting the hospital. His grandfather would most definitely give him a lengthy lecture if he showed up empty-handed for the first time in what had to be years by now.
So here he is now, face down on a cold desk in the middle of his physics classroom as he tries to think of a solution. Paper flowers? No, Yuji would rather fight evil curses than test his luck and nonexistent skill with arts and crafts. Not that cursed spirits exist or anything, that would be weird. A gift, then? No, his grandfather would just complain about how it has no use to him at such an old age, and-
“Ah, my favorite student Yuji-kun! You're still here!”
Oh, it's his professor, Gojo! Gojo-sensei is the type of person you absolutely love or absolutely hate— no in betweens. Yuji is part of the former group. While Gojo never takes his lessons seriously and is frequently late or entirely absent from his own lectures, he's always determined to make the class laid back and fun. Sure, it means that class often has dangerous, possibly life-threatening experiments because “it's an important part of physics!” such as the time they tried to make an atomic bomb or the time Gojo tried to recreate the Trinity test as accurately as possible, but it probably wasn’t that dangerous. If anything, Yuji is grateful for Gojo-sensei’s chaotic, unconventional teaching style because it’s probably the only reason Yuji is still passing the class. Otherwise, he would have probably been kicked out of college by now.
Yuji beams up at him, grinning brightly. Despite his dampened mood, he still tries to treat others with the same enthusiasm and energy he usually has, especially since he really looks up to Gojo anyway.
“Gojo-sensei! What’s-” Yuji blinks. “Wait, favorite student?”
Gojo laughs loudly, the bright sound reverberating through the empty lecture room. “Yes, of course! You’re the only one who wrote funny responses on the only test we’ve had this year!”
Gojo crouches down next to his student with a wide, toothy grin and claps a hand on Yuji’s back. Ouch. Yuji thinks he might need to go to the hospital now, especially since Gojo is now bellowing at full volume right next to his ear. Eh, he’ll probably be fine.
“Also, not only did you genuinely answer the ‘write everything you like about THE spectacular, fantastic, and effortlessly handsome Gojo Satoru in essay form’ question, you also drew this beautiful portrait of me!! I didn’t know you were such an esteemed artist, Yuji!!”
Gojo rapidly unfolds a crumpled test paper with Yuji’s messy handwriting and question marks scrawled all over it. Ah. Right. Yuji didn’t actually know any material on the only physics test he took because he spent every one of Gojo-sensei’s very infrequent lectures thinking about how many jumbo marshmallows he could fit into his mouth at once and then testing his theories. It didn’t help that all of Gojo’s questions were extremely confusing and half of them weren’t even relevant to the subject. One of them was just a multiple choice question that said “should i prank nanami”, and the only option was “yes definitely great Gojo-sensei”.
Luckily for Yuji, he spent the majority of the class writing his terribly formatted and poorly written essay about Gojo being the best professor of all time. In fact, he was so desperate that he also attempted to draw Gojo-sensei in all his glory, with an overly chiseled jawline and sparkly, anime-esque eyes under his sunglasses. Yuji winces a little, looking at it now in its crude, horrifying, creepypasta-like state, but it seemed like Gojo loved it so much that he gave Yuji 75 whole points for the essay and portrait combined, along with 20 for the Nanami question and 10 for just writing his name, which gave him a total score of 105, since he got every single other question wrong. Huh.
Either way, Yuji is passing this class with great marks, so he isn't going to complain, even if he gets violently throttled by Kugisaki for it sometimes. In Yuji's defense, it's not HIS fault she wrote “shut up gojo im not going to glaze you” on her test and lost 50 points because of it.
“Wow, thanks Gojo-sensei!” Yuji exclaims, before scratching the back of his head bashfully. “I uh… don't actually know anything about physics, so…”
“Ah, yes Yuji-kun. I can tell. Remind me why you took this class again?”
Yuji coughs loudly. Is he really going to admit this to his physics professor? Eh, whatever, it's not like he has anything to lose anyway. Gojo-sensei probably only became a teacher to justify carrying a basketball everywhere and hitting Nanami-sensei with it to “demonstrate the power of physics!!” to quote Gojo himself.
“I uh… put every major onto the spin the wheel website and it landed on physics,” Yuji coughs. Silence.
Gojo blinks. “Ah. Hm. That's fair enough, Yuji. I wouldn't be a physics professor if it didn't give me an excuse to bother Nanami.”
See! Yuji called it! He literally called it! This is the smartest thought Yuji has had in years. He has never felt more intelligent in his life. Gojo seems to notice Yuji basking in glory, because he laughs and claps a hand on Yuji's back again, full force like a true father figure. Gojo please pay for Yuji's hospital bills.
“Anyway. I'm glad you seem much more cheerful now, Yuji-kun!” Gojo exclaims enthusiastically, almost like a little kid. “You seemed down earlier. Did something happen?”
“Ah- well, it's not really a big deal…” Yuji responds sheepishly.
Yuji doesn't feel the need to continue, but Gojo-sensei is attentively urging him on with his freakishly detailed, brilliant blue eyes. It's kind of terrifying— almost like Gojo can see through his soul or something. He practically looks like a biblically accurate angel. Yuji looks away to avoid Gojo-sensei's all-seeing gaze and uncanny smile before continuing, caving under the pressure.
“The flower shop I always visited shut down a few days ago. I don't have anywhere else to go to get flowers for my grandpa, so I’m just a little bummed out, is all.”
Gojo lights up at Yuji’s words, an ecstatic grin splitting across his face. Yuji thinks it's kinda strange that Gojo seems to be enjoying his suffering, but the thought flies out of his head when his professor starts to shake him back and forth enthusiastically. Come on Gojo!! Yuji barely has any braincells left!! Don't be greedy!!
“Ah, fear not Yuji-kun! The greatest teacher in the world is here to help!” Gojo-sensei beams, gesturing towards himself dramatically before pulling out his phone and swiping through his apps.
“You see, my so- student actually works at a flower shop nearby! It’s about a twenty minute walk from campus, so it’s pretty convenient!” Gojo pulls up the flower shop on Google Maps and shoves the phone in front of Yuji’s face.
Yuji blinks, trying to read the screen. “Onigiri…denia?” He pronounces slowly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“It’s a portmanteau,” Gojo explains simply, returning his phone to his pocket.
Yuji stares at him, still confused. “It’s wordplay— a mix of ‘onigiri’ and ‘gardenia’, a type of flower.” Gojo-sensei elaborates, chuckling amusedly under his breath when Yuji's expression slowly turns into understanding and he lets out an “ohhhhhh I get it now”.
“...Wait, ‘onigiri’? What does that have to do with anything?”
Gojo waves his hand halfheartedly at Yuji. “Oh, the shopkeeper— another former student of mine— just really likes riceballs. I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you,” Gojo responds ominously. Very Gojo-sensei of him to randomly drop vaguely suspicious statements for no reason.
Gojo claps his hands together excitedly. “So, Yuji-kun, what do you think?”
Yuji matches his professor’s enthusiasm, nodding rapidly and pumping his fist into the air like his life depends on it. “It’s perfect, Gojo-sensei! Wow, you really are the best!”
Gojo lets out another boisterous laugh, clapping Yuji on the back again, full force as always. Someone please call Yuji an ambulance.
“Haha! No need to thank me, Yuji-kun! I'm sure you and my student will get along great!” Gojo-sensei exclaims, patting Yuji’s back before he begins to make his way towards the door, ominously spinning a basketball on his finger. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to complete my daily quest of pestering Nanami.”
“Wait!” Yuji calls out, stopping Gojo in his tracks. “What’s your student’s name?”
Gojo leans back from behind the doorframe, grin wide and almost teasing. “You’ll find out soon enough. See you later, Yuji-kun!”
…
Yuji sighs. Very Gojo-sensei of him indeed.
Yuji looks up from his phone, holding it up to match the photo on the screen to the shop in front of him. The name “Onigiri-denia” hangs above the door in a small, typewritten font, surrounded by a variety of flowers and vines that snake around the tall, stained glass windows that display more flowers inside. The place is both cozy and charming, with cute onigiri themed bouquets decorating the flower stands and assorted, scented candles littering the windowsills. “Onigiri-denia” looks like it fell straight from a fantasy novel. Not that Yuji reads. That would be too kind of an assumption.
Yuji likes the place though, maybe even more than the old flower shop, even if it's less convenient. Unfortunately, it's actually 20 minutes in the opposite direction of the hospital, which was why Yuji hadn't come across it earlier during his flower-shop-finding spree. It doesn't really matter to him though, since he's such a fast runner it only really took him 8 minutes or so. Gojo-sensei says that isn't possible with the laws of physics or something, but Yuji wasn't paying attention anyway so it probably doesn't matter.
Yuji pushes open the front door, the hanging bells singing a sweet melody akin the wind chimes outside, signaling the arrival of a guest. He stops to take in the scenery of the shop, eyes darting around, but what catches his eye isn't the flowers, but the florist.
Leaning on the counter is a tall, slim figured boy with spiky, raven black hair half tied into a small, low ponytail. His skin is bright like ivory, lips a soft pink, eyes sharp and intelligent, reminiscent of a white rabbit. He idly twirls a loose strand between nimble, elegant fingers, his other hand tucked under his pointed chin— the moment the doorbell rings, the florist groans dejectedly and rolls his eyes, his brilliant, deep ocean blue and glimmering emerald green pupils hidden by a thick layer of long, sharp lashes.
It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
…Not in a gay way though. Yuji isn't gay. Or at least he doesn't think he is. Either way, that's a problem for future Yuji. What he's focused on right now is the ethereal, unmatched beauty standing right before him in dirty, stained overalls and boots caked with weed ridden mud. He's wearing an oversized, deep sage sweater covered by a long black apron, a large onigiri print surrounded by flowers embroidered into the fabric. He must have noticed Yuji staring, because his irritated expression morphs into one of nervous discomfort as he shifts on his feet and avoids Yuji's gaze, pulling up the hem of his turtleneck to cover his face. The pink haired boy shakes himself out of his loveawe-struck trance, striding up to the counter “confidently” with a goofy, inconceivably bright grin on his face.
Yuji clears his throat, trying not to sound overenthusiastic. “Hey!” He greets, voice cracking. Haha. Fuck. Yuji's going to cry himself to sleep about this moment for the next 30 years.
“...Hello.” The florist responds tersely, straightening his back and folding his hands over each other, eyes still refusing to meet Yuji's. Yuji really hopes that it's out of shyness and not annoyance— If he stares hard enough, he can see the semblance of a blush reddening the other boy’s ears, so maybe he does have a chance! Or he’s just delusional. Probably the latter.
“So, uh…” Yuji looks down at the pin on the man's apron, a silver “Fushiguro Megumi” decorated with blue flowers printed onto the label. Pretty. The pin, that is. Of course.
…Wait, Megumi? Isn't that a girl's name? Is this guy actually a girl and Yuji has actually been mentally misgendering him this whole time? Yuji mentally slaps himself in the head and reminds himself to figure it out soon.
“Fushiguro Megumi, huh? Wow, that's a pretty name! I'm Itadori Yuji. It's nice to meet you!” Yuji beams, extending his hand toward the florist. …Wait, he didn’t mean to say the pretty part out loud. Fuck.
Thankfully, Fushiguro flushes momentarily at the compliment, a pretty blush blooming across his face like pink roses before he quickly looks away, scratching the back of his head bashfully. Cute, Yuji thinks, internally screaming a little, when he's interrupted by Fushiguro clearing his throat.
“...Just Fushiguro, please. People often think I'm female when I'm referred to as Megumi.”
Ohhh good, he is a guy. Yuji probably could have assumed as much, given Fushiguro's tall stature, deep voice, and broad shoulders, but one can never be too sure. (He may or may not have also been thrown off by Fushiguro's impressively long and pretty eyelashes. Yuji swears he isn't gay. Maybe,)
Fushiguro awkwardly meets Yuji's hand in a handshake, shaking it gently. His palms and fingertips are calloused, likely from extensive handling of flowers, but the back of his hands are softer than mochi, and his fingers elegant like a pianist's. Yuji doesn't even realize he's been holding Fushiguro's hand for longer than he intended until the latter is eyeing awkwardly between their combined hands and Yuji's eyes, blush threatening to creep into his face again. Yuji quickly pulls away, face burning, and stammers out a rapid apology.
Yuji coughs, attempting to begin again. “So uh, come here often?” Ok. Yuji is going to nonchalantly jump off a bridge. Did he really just ask Fushiguro if he comes here often when it's literally his job?? He probably looks like the biggest loser in the world to Fushiguro right now. Quick Yuji, say something that makes you look less stupid!!
“Ah- I mean uh, like, I was just wondering if you just recently started working here, since, y'know, it's my first time here,” He sputters pathetically, trying his best to save face.
“I can tell,” Fushiguro deadpans, seemingly unimpressed, but even then, there's a hint of amusement slipping into his voice and a curve of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“To answer your question, though, I suppose I'm also pretty new to this job. I started about a month ago.” He grimaces. “I originally wanted to work in the back to handle the flowers, but Inumaki-senpai can't easily communicate with customers, so I have no choice but to work at the counter…”
Ah, that checks out. Given Fushiguro's previous discontent with having to interact with Yuji, it's no surprise that he seems to be on the more introverted, asocial side.
“Inumaki-senpai…” Yuji thinks back to his conversation with Gojo. “Ah, is he also one of Gojo-sensei's students?”
At the mention of Gojo's name, Fushiguro's face falls into horror– Eyes wide, jaw slack, and eyebrows knitted in a mixture of confusion, terror, and disgust.
“You know Gojo-san? Please don't tell me he told you about me.” Fushiguro asks incredulously, his expression slightly tamer, but still ridden with distraught. It might be the most expressive Yuji has seen him.
“Yeah, I know Gojo-sensei. He's my physics professor. He actually recommended this place to me after I told him I needed a new flower shop to visit.”
After seeing Fushiguro's utterly horrified face at his response, Yuji laughs a little before adding on to ease Fushiguro's worries. “Don't worry though, the only thing he said was that one of his students works here and another one owns the shop.” Yuji laughs again at seeing Fushiguro let out a sigh of relief.
“Wait, what's wrong with Gojo-sensei? I think he's pretty great,” Yuji asks, confused.
Fushiguro groans, sliding his hands down his face. “He's extremely annoying and overdramatic, he radiates second hand embarrassment with every action and miserable dad joke like some sort of pathetic father figure, his ego is so massive its gravitational force probably attracts its own planets, and he has a habit of dragging innocent bystanders into his insufferable, idiotic antics, like Nanami-san.”
Fushiguro takes his hands off his face and cups his face as he leans on the counter, rolling his eyes in an irritated pout, but when then, there's a flicker of gentle affection in his eyes. Yuji's heart does three somersaults, a backflip, and falls off a roof. “The point is that I can't stand him. Though, either way, knowing Gojo-san means that you and I attend the same college. Itadori, are you also a first year?”
“Aye aye!” Yuji salutes enthusiastically, before slamming his hands on the counter, leaning forward towards Fushiguro as if they were in an interrogation, their faces nearly touching. Fushiguro flushes bright red at the proximity, reeling back and covering his mouth with the back of his hand, flustered.
“Wait, Fushiguro, are you in my physics class?! There's no way I haven't seen you yet!” Yuji shouts, voice ringing through the shop. There really is no way Yuji hasn't seen Fushiguro before if they are in the same class– Yuji may be as intelligent as a dying worm and never pay attention in class because he's always conjuring stupid scenarios in his head, but Fushiguro is far too pretty to go unnoticed even by a constantly distracted duncehead like Yuji.
Fushiguro makes a face and shakes his head, spiky ponytail brushing against his neck. It's kind of mesmerizing. “No, I specifically made sure not to sign up for physics to avoid Gojo-san.”
“Oh,” Yuji scratches his chin, confused. “How do you know him, then?”
Fushiguro goes quiet for a moment. “From somewhere else,” he replies tersely, voice flat. He quickly changes the subject. “Um, were you going to buy anything?”
A metaphorical lightbulb goes off above Yuji's head, knocking away his questions about Fushiguro and Gojo-sensei. There’s only room for one thing at a time in his pea sized brain, after all. “Oh, right!” he replies, hitting himself lightly on the side of his head and swiveling his body around like an office chair, looking for the right flowers.
Fushiguro snorts under his breath, lips quirked up in amusement. Yuji stills his office chair swiveling, his heart rate increasing at the sight. “Do you need help?” Fushiguro shimmies out from his spot behind the counter. “What kind are you looking for?”
“Ah- pink and yellow gerberas and white carnations! You guys have those, right?” Yuji turns to look at Fushiguro. Oh, he's tall! Well, Yuji knew that already, but Fushiguro is still taller than he expected— even if Yuji still has a couple extra inches on him. Must be his all consuming appetite. (Fushiguro looks like the kind of guy that used to be taller than him, though. Yuji wonders where that thought came from.)
“Yeah, we do,” Fushiguro squats in front of the flower racks before giving Yuji a soft look. “...Itadori, are you buying these for a sick patient?”
Yuji's mouth goes agape like a stupid looking fish because that’s exactly what he is. “Huh??? Woah, how'd you know that???”
“Yellow gerberas symbolize happiness and cheerfulness, while pink gerberas and white carnations mean grace and gentility, commonly given as a get well gift,” Fushiguro explains thoroughly but incredulously. “...Itadori, you're the one who chose the flowers. How do you not know that?”
Yuji scratches his head sheepishly. “Iunno. I think I just searched up “flowers to get sick people” on Google and then immediately forgot the meanings after.”
Fushiguro gives him a judgemental look. Yuji just shrugs and smiles bashfully. The black haired boy sighs and turns back towards the flowers. Wait, is Fushiguro blushing?
“...Sure,” Fushiguro coughs, delicately plucking out the flowers and glancing towards Yuji to see if he approves of the picks.
“Ah— well, I think it's really cool you know all this stuff about flowers, Fushiguro!” Yuji beams, sunshine emanating from his smile as he ignores the flowers entirely. Fushiguro winces and raises a hand to cover his face from the metaphorical light radiating off of Yuji.
“Right. Um. Thanks,” Fushiguro mumbles under his breath, fumbling with the unfinished bouquet. He's quiet after that, but something about the shimmer in his eyes makes Yuji want to keep talking.
Yuji looks over the shoulders of a flustered Fushiguro, who jumps in surprise. Pretty. …the flowers, of course. Yeah, now that he's actually looking at them, the flowers are very pretty too. Yuji grins at Fushiguro. “So… what's your favorite flower?”
Fushiguro's eyes light up slightly at the question. “I like hydrangeas,” he says softly, voice touched with a gentle warmth. “They're very beautiful. The colors of the flowers change based on the pH of the soil— blue for a pH 5.5 or lower, purple for a pH between 5.5 and 6.5, and pink for a pH of 6.5 and higher. Since we sell all color variations of hydrangeas, we have to set up several separate plots with different soil pH to get the different colors. As some individual flowers may absorb more aluminum than others and therefore have a deeper, bluer color than other blossoms in the same plot, you can also achieve interesting gradients within each area. Plus, you can use the differing colors as a gauge for how many nutrients the flowers are absorbing in general, and thus monitor plant health and supplement the flowers with any nutrients needed.”
Fushiguro is rambling now, fully immersed in the conversation. He has an intent, focused expression on his face, fingers pressed under his chin as if he was deep in thought— Yuji thinks it's extremely endearing. “There are also white hydrangeas, but the coloring comes from genetics rather than soil pH, or from being at an earlier stage in a blue or pink bloom. Interestingly, though unsurprisingly, the meaning of hydrangeas change based on color and the cultures that interpret it. Here, generally, hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotion and sincerity. However, in places like Europe, they symbolize arrogance and vanity instead. As for colors, blue hydrangeas represent both gratitude and regret, often given as either a thank you gift or an apology. Its meaning of remorse is more closely associated with our culture’s interpretation of these flowers. White hydrangeas symbolize purity and honor, and purple hydrangeas symbolize royalty and abundance, though these are more projections of general color symbolism rather than flower specific meanings. Pink hydrangeas represent romance, grace, and admiration, the embodiment of an “I love you” in flower form, and…”
Fushiguro stops suddenly, as if realizing something. “Ah, um, I apologize. I did not mean to ramble,” he mumbles, embarrassed, bowing politely while pulling up his collar to hide his face.
“Nono, I thought it was really cool and interesting!!” Yuji shouts, waving his hands wildly, vaguely making a flower shape in the air with his gestures. “I mean, I only absorbed like 20% of what you said, but it’s amazing how much you know about this topic, Fushiguro! Tell me more!”
Fushiguro blinks in surprise, flustered. He looks away, busying himself with Yuji’s bouquet, trying to arrange it in a pleasing composition. “I uh, really shouldn’t. Does yellow ribbon work for you?” He asks sheepishly, tilting his head toward the assortment on the wall, avoiding Yuji’s gaze.
Yuji isn’t paying attention to that in the slightest. He's probably forgotten about the bouquet already. “Nooo it's okay Fushiguro!! You can infodump about flowers all you want!!” He pleads, flailing his arms around cartoonishly like a fledgling learning how to fly.
“It's fine, Itadori,” Fushiguro responds, half grimacing, half blushing, both out of embarrassment.
Itadori stares intensely at Fushiguro, suddenly placing both hands firmly on the latter's shoulders, whose eyes widen. “Fushiguro, your passion is admirable, you know! I've never really known what I want to do in life, so to see someone like you love something so much is inspirational!” Fushiguro flushes, but Yuji continues regardless.“I may not know anything about flowers, but I do know that-”
“Ah, um, excuse me?”
Itadori whips his head around, surprised. Fushiguro blinks.
There's a woman with short, wavy hair, brown roots peeking past her dyed blonde locks. Her eyes are a deep blue, matching the large, ornate earrings that swing like pendulums when she tilts her head apologetically. She's gently clutching a purse in one hand, bouquet in the other, her crisp, black tuxedo folded up at the edges of her sleeves.
“Sorry if I interrupted something!” she sputters sheepishly, waving her hands in apology. “But ah, I was wondering if I could buy this?” She says, pointing towards the bundle of flowers in her other hand.
Yuji lifts his hands off of Fushiguro's shoulders, who quickly glances away in embarrassment. “Eh?? Sorry, I didn't see you there! Apologies for taking up your time!” Yuji bows rapidly as if he was in a heavy metal concert before sliding away.
“...Itadori, you haven't even bought your flowers yet,” Fushiguro looks at him, dumbfounded.
Right. Right, Yuji totally did not forget about that.
“Oh, right. Oops,” He slides back towards the counter and fishes for his wallet. The blonde haired woman watches the entire ordeal with an equally confused expression.
Yuji pulls out a couple thousand yen and dramatically hands it towards Fushiguro, who palms it indifferently, reaching into the cash machine for change. Yuji shakes his finger and quickly puts his hand on Fushiguro's, who flushes at the action. While he's distracted, Yuji snatches the bouquet out of Fushiguro's other hand.
“Keep the change!” Yuji shouts over his shoulder, already turning away from Fushiguro. He's sprinted through the door and onto the lively streets of Tokyo before he gets a chance to see Fushiguro's reaction, doorbells faintly jingling in the distance.
Yuji breaks into a sudden laughter, running faster and jumping up in exuberance— dropping his flowers and wallet in the process. He scrambles to pick them up off the road, but the goofy grin is still plastered on his face, and the fact that the first thing his mind conjures is not his grandpa’s discontented scolding for his carelessness but Fushiguro’s disappointed (but still pretty) scowl speaks volumes about his current state.
While fumbling with his wallet, Yuji takes a quick peek at how much money he has left in there—he had no idea how much he had actually given Fushiguro, Yuji was just trying to impress him and ran away before he had time to assess the damage to his finances. Yuji stares at his near empty wallet. A couple hundred yen stare back at him dryly.
Yeah, Yuji is definitely going broke after this.