Chapter Text
It was dusk and the atmosphere was dense. Sendai lay witness to the dipping suns baton pass, preparing once again to plunge its residents into darkness.
City lights sparked and whirred, coming alive like the fizz of a freshly opened soda can. Yuuji didn’t have time to pay it any mind though, for him the repetitively ritualistic routine of dawn, day, dusk, night only served to remind him of the little time he could remain by his ailing grandfathers side. As Yuuji’s only known living relative, he threw his full tunnel-visioned focus into their relationship and caring for him. Countless times, his grandfather attempted to nudge and gently encourage him to pursue things for his own sense of self, reminding his grandchild of his own mortality but the boy simply laughed the harsh truth away into the wind every time.
‘To find your own thing Yuuji, the vessel through which you can explore passion and lust for life is imperative,’ he croaked from his hospital bed whilst Yuuji rearranged the bouquet he’d brought with him that day. ‘I want so much for you to understand that feeling, I—’ he wheezed, his thoughts trailing off. ‘When you die, you should be surrounded by people. Don’t end up like me,’ he finished. Yuuji shared the silence with his grandfather for a further two hours before realising that he was no longer breathing and running to fetch the nurses, who sombrely confirmed his passing and offered their deepest condolences.
In a complete blur of numbness, all Yuuji found himself able to do was go and get his bicycle that he had parked behind the building and cycle home.
The lock to his grandfather’s apartment had been rusty as long as Yuuji could remember. Some days the borderline lock-picking he had to perform to gain entry to the cramped space lasted under five minutes. Today he had already been trying for fifteen graceless minutes before swiftly and harshly kicking the door with the full weight of his body. He never liked to do this in front of his grandfather, and though it always did the trick, it was a last resort.
Throwing his backpack down he made his way to the kitchen and unceremoniously prepared a bowl of packet noodles, that he scarfed in eerie silence. The space was only lit by a corner lamp that remained on 24-hours-a-day, for no reason other than Yuuji could never be bothered to climb over the back of the sofa to turn it off. Though he wasn't complaining about the constant companionship.
His grandfathers words rung round his cranium like a catchy song on loop, and Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut very tightly in attempt to banish the voice. His duty had been to his grandfather, no questions asked. That was the very reason he had joined his school’s Winter theatre production as a set and tech support student, as opposed to the myriad of sports teams and physical based clubs that begged for his membership.
For first years at his high school, it was compulsory to participate in one extra curricular activity per term. Working backstage on a theatre production meant minimal after school commitment as he wasn’t required to attend all rehearsals, and since he spent most of his free time at the hospital, this seemed the perfect solution.
This thought carried him to the small wooden upright piano he and his grandfather had kept in memory of Yuuji’s father. Upon the top board were plants that had seen better days, trinkets as memories and two framed photographs. One showed a miniature, beaming Yuuji, surrounded by his family, with pink hair that was longer and more unruly and his arms outstretched towards the camera. His father and grandfather held a hand on either little shoulder and his mother stood slightly separated with a smile so faint it could’ve been mistaken for a trick of the light. Of course it was unquestionably a smile in Yuuji’s eyes, a smile he had burned onto the insides of his retinas, a rare smile.
The other photograph held just one figure, his father as a high school graduate. Pink hair mirroring Yuuji’s current style and metal framed glasses, he looked gentle and if Yuuji thought too hard about it, it made his stomach ache indescribably.
As memories of his late parents swam through his skull, he was hardly aware of the fact he’d sat down at the piano and begun to play. Itadori had never formally learned how to play but repeatedly attempting to mimic his fathers skilful command of the instrument were some of his most prominent childhood memories. His fingers danced across the keys with a mind of their own, interpreting and translating his thoughts into expression. This was an unconscious routine he had developed over the past years of his grandfathers illness, isolated and overwhelmed, and without his knowledge the piano had become his most trusted confidant.
As had happened many times before, the piano was where he accidentally drifted off until the early hours of the next morning. The sun cracked through the blanket of clouds once again, unrelenting.
-
When he woke up with his cheek unceremoniously squashed flat again ivory piano keys, he had forgotten about his grandfather. The memory thwacked him around the head with the same velocity as being hit with a frying pan. It happened whilst he was brushing his teeth and noticed a second neglected toothbrush. This resulted in him brushing so hard that his gums bled and no amount of mouthwash or chewing gum was able to remove the taste of iron from his mouth up until lunch time.
Yuuji failed to inform the school of his situation and subsequently, the day ran as any other school day- save for the fact that Yuuji was unable to breathe properly. Due to some twisted divine timing it happened to be the opening night of the Winter production that evening, allowing him no chance to dwell.
He spent lunch finishing the details of their stage set in the school hall that doubled as a theatre along with a classmate Setsuko Sasaki whose giddy musings and strange obsession with the occult served as an apt distraction. After lunch, Itadori’s mind whirred through each unmemorable class and carried him to the final bell. Sighing in resignation, he made his way to the school hall, with three hours to go until the curtains opened.
As he pushed through the hefty doorway, he was firmly grabbed by Sasaki. Her eyes full of tears as panic rose in her voice.
‘It’s Iguchi-kun!’ She wailed, flailing her arms and attempting to grab Yuuji and shake him. ‘I cant believe what terrible luck we’re having Itadori-kun, why would this—’
‘Hey Sasaki,’ he calmly removed her hands from his shoulders and encouraged her to take a deep breath in tandem. ‘Slow down, tell me what’s wrong. Clearly if you can.’
‘Our piano player Iguchi-san, he’s— he’s sprained his wrist he can't play,’ she broke into wails again and tears streamed down her blotchy, sodden cheeks. ‘It’s my fault, I asked him to grab me some melonpan from the cafeteria and in the rush he slipped on a stair…’ she hiccupped fisting the front of Yuuji’s shirt and crashing her head into his chest. Makina sensei is on maternity leave so we don’t have another pianist who’s familiar with the production or could pick it up quick enough.’ She sobbed and sobbed, until the front of Yuuji’s shirt was tear streaked. ‘We’ll have to cancel the production and it’s all my fault!’
‘I could do it,’ he shrugged. Sasaki pulled her head to stare up at him incredulously wearing an almost offended expression, eyebrows knitted together. ‘Yeah I play the piano, and I’ve been here so I know the show well enough. Just y’know, since we don’t have any other options…’
‘If you’re teasing me Itadori-kun, it’s not funny.’
‘I’m really not, my dad used to play professionally and I play a lot, for fun… sort of.’ He scratched his neck sheepishly.
‘Hmm,’ Sasaki seemed so caught off guard by the situation that her tears almost immediately evaporated. ‘Well I suppose, if we don’t have another choice…’ she wondered aloud, before dragging Yuuji to every relevant production member seeking confirmation in their scrambled decision.
Eventually he was ushered into a small, private music room and a bibles worth of sheet music was set before him with two hours until the curtain rose, Yuuji lost himself in the music notes.
-
With only an hour and a half left, he received his first visitor. A gentle knock proceeded a sweet face and Yuuji found himself staring at the girl stood in the doorway. He immediately flushed when he recognised her as Tsumiki Fushiguro, a popular second year who Yuuji primarily knew as the lead role of their production. Her usual ponytail was traded for a looping, intricate up-do and her uniform replaced with a gently glimmering, knee-length cream dress. They shared a smile, Yuuji’s more nervous and brief than her own.
‘Hello Itadori-kun,’ she spoke softly, her voice weaving through the room like silky thread. ‘I wanted to extend my gratitude for volunteering to stand-in today. We all appreciate it so very much. Sensei suggested I visit you for a short practice, although we’ll inform the audience of our predicament, I’m sure you and I are both aiming for the best outcome, no?’ Yuuji nodded emphatically. ‘Good,’ she beamed, ‘let’s give it our best!’
And with that they began to run-through songs. Tsumiki’s voice was pure and soft yet strangely powerful, as though she had experienced many adversities but refused to let them harden her. As Yuuji played, her eyes widened and glassed significantly. She let her voice run in tandem with the melodic notes Yuuji keyed into the air and bottled her surprise. After running a total of six solo numbers and two variations of group songs, Tsumiki bid her farewell and expressed her excitement for the evening ahead.
‘Itadori-kun, I didn’t expect this level of skill from you- no offence! It’s just that nobody knew you were musically gifted and we all just thought you’d become involved in the production for an opportunity to slack off. I sincerely apologise for that,’ she bowed to him. ‘We’re all very lucky to get the opportunity to perform alongside you tonight. See you for the warm up in twenty!’ She waved brightly as she headed back to the school hall.
Staying to practice for a few more minutes and to enjoy a moment to himself, Yuuji melted into the piano stool. He mused on his future within the theatre department since he’d no longer have his grandfather related responsibilities… his grandfather. Yuuji had managed to not think of him all day but now it fell on him like a tonne of bricks realising that no one would be in the audience to support him.
Yuuji absentmindedly began to make his way from the music studio over to the hall, without forgetting the tome of sheet music he now bore full responsibility for. After exiting the music block, he felt the door slam behind him with a heavy thud, attracting an uncomfortable amount of bystander attention. After jumping like a cat, he offered an awkward smile and apologised to the unimpressed strangers.
As he continued forward, he noticed the back of a familiar cream dress standing next to the entrance to the school hall. He was surprised that Tsumiki wasn’t already with the rest of the company, and as Yuuji approached he noticed a boy with her- a boy who was looking at him intensely.
He was wearing an oversized black long-sleeved t-shirt, khaki cargo pants and he was staring at Yuuji as though he were an alien. As he approached the entrance, he could see the boys hair was shiny, black and spiked. It was hard to tell if the style was a product of many hours of styling in front of a mirror or the most confusing and flattering case of bedhead he had ever witnessed. Either way, Yuuji liked it, he found himself wanting even more of the boys attention than he already currently had.
At that, Tsumiki turned around impatiently, searching for the source of the spiked boys distraction. When her eyes landed on Yuuji she smiled brightly and as he got closer to them he could overhear her saying ‘keep and eye out for him’ to the other boy.
‘Fushiguro-san,’ Yuuji waved enthusiastically before looking at the boy again. The boy didn’t react, not perceptibly anyway, but he blinked hard and when he did Yuuji could see the wings of his dark lashes feather out across his upper cheekbone in a light dusting. He’d never thought of the word pretty to describe another boy before but no other word felt appropriate. Perhaps terrifying? Solemn? Terrifyingly pretty? Yuuji’s mind was attempting somersaults and repeatedly landing face first on the concrete. All he could manage was, ‘well I’ll see you in there,’ before sprinting like a child into the school hall.
He hadn’t known if she planned to introduce the two of them, or who he was to her, maybe a boyfriend? He wouldn’t have been able to say much anyway, he needed his full focus on the show, on the piano, not on a complete stranger. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he may have pulled blood as he entered the hall and threw himself into the production.
Yuuji was positioned perpendicular to the stage, just below in a makeshift ‘orchestra pit’ of sorts. As the audience filled into the hall he had to convince his brain not to search for the boy who was just with Tsumiki. The show ran smoothly and Yuuji’s accompaniments tore through the hall like a celestial being might break through clouds to deliver messages of rapture, gliding across the keys with improvised flourishes. The audience were captivated and even the performers were caught off guard by his hidden talent.
During the interval, Sasaki ran to him teary-eyed yet again but for different reasons this time. She thanked him profusely and shook him stupid with praise.
‘Iguchi-san in the audience is texting me non-stop about how superior you are to him and how you should most certainly take over from him in the school Spring production!’ Yuuji blushed, shaking his head vigorously, deep down revelling the rare acknowledgment.
The second act flew by in what felt like seconds to him and he could’ve sworn he blacked out for half of it. Tsumiki’s pure tones wafted airily with the story Yuuji painted on the keys of the overused, under-maintained school issued upright piano.
When it came time for the bows and the main cast took theirs, they all extended their hands, lead by Tsumiki towards Yuuji. The audience roared and flew into a standing ovation, to the surprise of no one but Yuuji. He stood and bowed to accept the praise but it didn’t die down immediately and as he glanced around he saw the cast emphatically cheering for him too. He turned back to the audience and as they began to sit back down two heads remained stood above the crowd for an extra ten seconds.
The first was a very tall, pale man with bright white hair, dressed in a dapper grey suit and very dark glasses. The other… Yuuji’s breath caught in his throat, the other was the boy. The pretty one from outside. He was staring again, dark and brooding but there was something else in his gaze this time, something undefinable and exciting. Yuuji nodded to him before sitting himself back on the stool somewhat awkwardly and waiting for the curtain call to end.
Once the show ended, the cast were encouraged to greet their families and friends in the audience and with that Yuuji began to gather his belongings to head home.
-
After pushing through the front door of the hall, he noticed a shadowy figure leaning against the wall, seemingly waiting for something. Yuuji’s eyes adjusted to the low light of the inky night and when he realised with a rush that it was the spiky haired boy, his eyes grew as big as saucers. The boy looked up at the sound of the door opening and his eyes widened too at the sight. He cleared his throat lightly, smoothly and began to approach Yuuji. Cocking his head to one side, Yuuji stayed in place, embarrassingly unable to approach or speak or do anything.
‘Yuuji Itadori.’ He growled.
‘Huh?’
‘I’m Megumi Fushiguro from Tokyo Metropolitan Music and Performance Tech, I’d like to have a word with you.’ He now stood directly before Yuuji, right hand plunged deep into his pocket.
‘Fushiguro…?' 'What’s this about?’
‘You. I’m wondering what you’re doing wasting your time in a shit dump like this?’
‘Hah?’ Yuuji gawked, choking on air in the process.
‘My sister tells me no one knew of your abilities until today, why?’ He grimaced.
‘Hmm,’ Yuuji hummed and walked over to a bench next to the front door of the hall to stretch out on, Megumi followed silently. ‘Dunno,’ he concluded.
Megumi’s face contorted even deeper in discontent. ‘How often do you practice?’
‘Oh.. umm I don’t really. Just sort of play when I feel like it.’ He explained weakly, stretching out on the bench and propping his head up by his elbow.
Still scowling Megumi pushed again monotonously, ‘what are your goals, in life?’
‘Well, I was taking care of my grandfather but he passed away last night so I’m in mourning right now. Not sure what’s next, but whatever it is I’ll face it head on like anything else!’ Yuuji nodded, having shifted three or so times on the bench in the space of two minutes, Megumi however had not moved once from his position towering above Yuuji. Megumi nodded once before turning on his heel.
‘Stay here,’ he ordered. So Yuuji stayed.
After five minutes or so, he returned with the white haired man he was sat next to during the performance.
‘Yuuji Itadori, this is Satoru Gojo.’ Megumi introduced blandly.
The tall man grinned widely and extended his hand for Yuuji to shake.
‘Nice to meet you,’ Yuuji offered, a little confused, accepting his hand.
‘Likewise,’ Gojo nodded emphatically. ‘Not every day you meet a fellow genius’ he laughed lightly and handed a small card to Yuuji.
Upon inspection, the card was his professional business card. It proclaimed him as both a distinguished teacher at Tokyo Metropolitan Music and Performance Technical College but also a generational classical musician. Yuuji blinked in confusion and looked back up at the two, dumbfounded.
‘All my information that you might need is on there,’ he stated cooly. ‘Are you available a week on Thursday?’
‘Well I’ve got school so…’ Itadori began before understanding what Gojo was suggesting.
Gojo laughed harder, ‘yeah like that matters. Come here,’ he pointed to an address on the card, ‘next Thursday at midday and I give you my word that you will start as a transfer student the following week. This school is the only one of its kind in Japan, very well-respected. A majority of the best classical musicians in the country attended at one time or another, first class education and with talent like yours a full scholarship would be the only correct course of action.’ He insisted.
‘What are you…? Sorry I think you’ve lost me—’ Yuuji started.
‘What he means is that we want you to attend Met Tech.’ Megumi huffed, sullenly.
We want, Yuuji thought to himself. The pretty boy wants that too?
‘O-okay, I guess so…’ he conceded.
‘Spectacular!’ The tall pale man sang and immediately searched his pockets. ‘I’ll see you then.’ He cooed as he distanced himself from the pair, for what looked like a phone call.
The two boys fell silent.
‘So I’m looking forward to—’ Yuuji started.
‘You don’t have to worry about—’ Megumi cut in at the same time.
Silence followed again. Then a cough from Megumi.
‘I suppose I’ll be seeing you again,’ he nodded cooly, but with a hint of discomfort.
‘Yeah… Friday,’ Itadori nodded with a smile. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Megumi’s eyes briefly widened a fraction before dissolving back into his facial harmony. A silence followed, in which it seemed as though he was wracking his mind for a response, to no avail. Before Yuuji could help him out, a camera flash appeared out of the corner of his eye and Megumi spun around furiously.
As Yuuji tried to decipher the flashes source, Megumi was manhandling Gojo in the opposite direction of Yuuji and they left the school without saying goodbye.
Yuuji thought he could hear the white-haired man whine about 'wanting to show the second years', whatever that meant. He thought to himself about what an odd dynamic the pair had. Was Megumi a teacher or student, surely a student right? But then why was he so comfortable directly offending his sensei…
He really didn’t know anything, except for the fact that he knew he wanted to find out more. Piano or no piano, when life flings you into the laps of people like that, you don’t object.