Chapter Text
The dorm room smelled like a volatile mixture of expensive French perfume and Megumi’s dying will to live.
"I’m not going," Megumi said, her face pressed firmly into her secondhand Macroeconomics textbook, marked and damned with the tears of despairing students years past. "I have a midterm. I have a soul to preserve. I have a life that doesn't involve smelling like cheap vodka and perfume that tells me you're in deep debt."
"First of all, you don't have a soul, you have a scholarship," Nobara Kugisaki countered, pointedly not addressing the debt accusation. She was currently standing on a chair to get the perfect angle in the vanity mirror, adjusting a leather skirt that looked like it was held together by spite and safety pins. "Second of all, if I have to look at your depressed, 'I-miss-my-boring-ex' face for one more Friday night, I’m going to shave off your eyebrows in your sleep. I’ll do it, Fushiguro. I have the steady hands of a surgeon and the heart of a cold-blooded killer."
Megumi bolted upright, her dark hair standing up in sleep-deprived spikes. "First of all, you're obnoxious, so stop. Second, I don't miss Noritoshi. Where did that even come from?"
On some level, Megumi knew where it came from.
In her sophomore year, Noritoshi used to trail her around campus like a loyal shadow. He swam for their college's team, and always distinctly smelt of chlorine. The relationship had lasted a month or two, and it wasn't anything special. It really wasn't. She broke up with him for a pretty unromantic reason: too busy, bad timing, no space in her schedule to be dating. But sometimes, usually when she caught the sharp scent of chlorine drifting from the pool, she found herself missing him anyway.
Not because he’d been remarkable in the slightest. But he had been as comfortably, uninterestingly lame as she was, and she liked that in a boyfriend. Put together, they had almost half a social life.
"Then prove it! You’ve been moping since the breakup like a Victorian widow waiting for a ship that sank three years ago," Nobara huffed, hopping down from the chair and lunging for Megumi’s closet. "Look at this. This wardrobe is a cry for help. It’s screaming, 'Please, Nobara, save me from my own boring personality!'"
"It’s a black hoodie, Nobara. It’s practical."
"It’s a tragedy! It’s a funeral shroud for your youth!" Nobara began tossing hangers onto Megumi’s bed with reckless abandon. "You're twenty years old, you go to the best university in the country, and you're dressed like you're about to go milk cows in the 1800s."
"I have a job at the cafe tomorrow morning," Megumi weakly protested, clutching her textbook like a shield. "I need study. I need to sleep. I need to not be around people who think beer pong is like, fun or something."
"Too bad. We’re going to Todo’s party. "
Megumi made a face. "The guy who ripped his shirt off in the middle of the dining hall because they ran out of protein shakes? Why?"
Nobara’s expression shifted for a split second, a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like a calculated plan. "Because it’s a social necessity. Also, I heard Mai is going to be there."
"Oh," Megumi said, dropping the textbook. "So this isn't about my mental health. This is about you wanting to go shout insults at my cousin until one of you ends up in a headlock or a closet."
"I hate her!" Nobara yelled, pointing a manicured finger at Megumi’s nose. This was becoming their most frequent argument and it was irritating for both parties involved. Nobara always insisted upon calling Mai her nemesis, while Megumi saw it for what it truly was. Anyone within six feet's distance of Nobara and Mai would recoil at the palpable sexual tension between them.
Nobara continued before Megumi could cut her off. "She told me my shoes were last season at the student union! She needs to be humbled, because let's face it, we all know she's not even the cool twin. Maki takes that easy. Now, put this on before I start throwing your textbooks out the window."
Nobara held up a scrap of black fabric that looked like two ribbons and a dream.
"I am not wearing that," Megumi said. "That is not a shirt. That is a bandage for a very specific injury."
"Put. It. On."
Twenty minutes later, Megumi stood in front of the full-length mirror, feeling exposed and deeply irritated. The "shirt" was a cropped, backless top, paired with a skirt that was significantly shorter than anything she’d ever owned. Nobara had pinned Megumi down and aggressively applied eyeliner and a dark lip tint until Megumi looked less like a tired student and more like someone who ruined lives for fun.
Nobara stepped back, her hand clutching her chest. For a moment, she looked genuinely angry.
"I hate you," Nobara whispered. "I hate your genetics. I hate your face." What Nobara didn’t voice was her irritation at how attractive Megumi’s shitty bloodline was. Seriously, what was up with these damn Zen'ins?
"What? Is it bad? Can I change?" Megumi asked hopefully, reaching for her hoodie.
"Um, no Bum-gumi, you look like a freaking model!" Nobara stomped her foot. "I’m the one who spent three hours on my hair! I’m the one who paid for these clothes! And you just... you just put on a piece of string and look like you’re about to walk a runway in Milan. It’s disgusting. It’s an insult to my hard work."
"You literally forced me into this!" Scowled Megumi, her mind partly occupied with the insult Nobara had easily thrown at her. Bum-gumi?
"And I regret it! But we’re going! You look like a heartbreaker, Megumi. Go act like one."
The frat house was a pulsating biohazard of bass and body heat. Aoi Todo was currently standing on a coffee table, shirtless as expected, screaming about "Brotherly Bonds" while pouring something blue into a funnel. What a damn headache, Megumi thought sourly.
"Stay close," Nobara commanded, her eyes scanning the room like a heat-seeking missile. "And if you see Maki, tell her she’s late. She said she’d be here after soccer practice."
"Maki’s here?" Megumi asked, feeling a bit more grounded. At least her other cousin was sane. Mostly.
"Yeah, and she'll probably have that Okkotsu fellow trailing behind her like a lost puppy carrying her gym bag," Nobara muttered. Suddenly, she froze. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Megumi followed her gaze. Across the room, near the overpriced keg, was Mai. She was leaning against the wall, looking effortlessly cool in a silk camisole. But she wasn't looking at Nobara. She was laughing at something a girl next to her was saying.
The girl was... striking, to say the least. She was of average height, probably a little shorter than Megumi, but with a powerful, athletic build that made everyone other girl in the room look like they were made of cardboard. Besides Maki probably. Her hair was long and dual-toned, faded pink on the outside with dark brown peeking out. Somehow looking incredibly silky, not bleach-damaged in the slightest. Megumi self-consciously patted her wild hair down. She was wearing a simple t-shirt that still managed to show off toned shoulders.
"Who is that?" Megumi asked, her voice sounding a little breathier than she intended. Weird. Megumi didn't know why she even cared.
"Are you serious? Do you live under a literal rock?" Nobara groaned, her eyes narrowing as she watched Mai giggle at the pink girl. "That’s Itadori Yuki. Captain of the girls' volleyball team. National scouts are basically camping out in her backyard. I had a class with her sophomore year. She sat in the back and all she did was watch weird horror movies, thinking she was sneaky or something. But Itadori's so nice it makes me sick."
"She looks... energetic," Megumi managed.
"She’s a menace. She’s too loud, she’s too fast, and she looks like that without even trying," Nobara huffed. "And if she and Mai are hooking up again, I’m going to set this house on fire. I can’t compete with that, Megumi! It’s not fair! I mean, who pulls off hair like that?" She cried in indignation.
"Hooking up again?"
"They dated freshman year. It was a whole thing. Lots of slamming doors and intense staring in the hallway from what I heard," Nobara said, already moving toward them. "Stay here. Drink something. Try not to look like you’re calculating the interest rate on a student loan."
Nobara vanished into the crowd without acknowledging that she'd just admitted to wanting Mai for herself. Megumi stood awkwardly by the wall. The bass was vibrating in her teeth. She felt small and out of place, until she caught sight of a head of dark hair across the room that looked exactly like Noritoshi’s. Right then, she was taken out of her momentary trance. She was 171 cm, dammit, there was no reason for her to be feeling small.
Panic and spite flared in her chest. I'm not a fucking nun, she thought bitterly. She grabbed a red solo cup from a passing tray and downed it. It tasted like gasoline and artificial grape. She grabbed another.
Soon, the world had become a series of blurred shapes and loud noises. Megumi was in a hallway now, the air slightly cooler, but her head felt like it was detached from her body.
"Hey, hey... slow down," a voice said. A guy had his hand on her waist. He was tall, wearing a hoodie with odd graphics on it, and he smelled like cheap cologne. "You're Fushiguro, right? I've seen you around. You're even hotter than people say."
"I have... a midterm," Megumi slurred, trying to push his hand away, but her fingers felt like cooked noodles.
"Forget your midterm," the guy smirked, crowding her against a bedroom door. "You're clearly looking for a good time. Why don't we go inside? It's quiet."
Megumi felt a cold wave of "no" wash over her, but the alcohol had disconnected the wires between her brain and her muscles. She felt the door click open behind her.
Suddenly, the pressure on her waist vanished. A relatively large hand clapped onto the guy's shoulder, spinning him around with terrifying ease.
"Man, whatever's going on here doesn't look nice," an unfamiliar voice remarked.
Megumi blinked, trying to focus. Standing there, looking down at the frat guy with an expression of pure, bored disdain, was Itadori Yuki. Even in her drunken stupor, Megumi could appreciate Itadori's aggressively pretty features. It had to be some form of good karma that Megumi was able to be within such close distance of her. She did do Nobara's laundry yesterday.
"She’s with me," the guy snapped, trying to puff out his chest. "Back off, Itadori. Go fuck a volleyball or something."
Itadori didn't move. She actually stepped closer, looming over him. Up close, she was even more intimidating. "Actually," Itadori said, her voice raspy (Megumi did not find that attractive), "this really doesn't look nice. She looks like she’s about to projectile vomit all over your sneakers. I think I might take her home."
"The hell?" He shot Itadori a look full of malice, which lasted for a millisecond before a sly smile flickered across his face at some remembered thought. "What, you jealous or something? Don't worry Itadori, you were nice too," he smirked.
"Don't even, Mitzuha," Itadori began, but whatever followed blurred into unintelligible noise for Megumi, who was focused on staying upright.
The guy paled, mumbled something about a "misunderstanding," and bolted down the hall.
Itadori sighed and turned to Megumi, her expression softening instantly. "Whoa, easy there, shadow girl. You’re vibrating."
"I'm fine," Megumi said, swaying dangerously. She looked up into Itadori’s eyes. They were a warm, honey-brown. "You're the volleyball one."
"Guilty as charged," Itadori laughed, catching Megumi before she hit the floor. She threw Megumi’s arm over her shoulder. "Come on. Let’s get you out of this sweatbox. If Nobara finds out I let you get cornered by a creep like that, she’ll try to fight me again, and I really don't want to hurt her feelings."
"Nobara is... a lot," Megumi whispered as Itadori navigated them through the back exit.
"Tell me about it. But hey," Itadori looked down at her, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "She was right about one thing. Her roommate is pretty cute."
Megumi woke up to the sound of a jackhammer inside her skull.
She opened one eye, wincing at the light. She was in her own bed, still wearing the black scrap of fabric, but someone had tucked her under the covers. On her nightstand sat a glass of water, two ibuprofen, and a folded piece of paper.
She opened it with shaky hands.
Drink the water. You’re a quiet drunk, Fushiguro. You mostly just talked about your dog. You owe me a coffee for the rescue mission. - Itadori Yuki (volleyball one).
"Ugh..." Megumi groaned, burying her face in her pillow.
"Rise and shine, party animal!" Nobara shouted, kicking the end of the bed. She looked suspiciously perfect, her hair already styled. "You’re late for work. Panda called. He said if you aren't there in twenty minutes, he’s going to let Inumaki handle the steaming wand, and we both know everything will end up tasting like tuna."
"Let me sleep," Megumi croaked, her tone sounding slightly pathetic to even her own ears.
"Get up! You have a job! You're poor, remember?" Nobara tossed a clean uniform at her. "Also, did you hook up with Itadori? Because she carried you in here like a bride and then spent ten minutes asking me if you always look that pretty when you're unconscious."
"She did what?" Megumi sat up too fast, and the room spun.
"So that's what it takes for you to get up, huh?" Nobara asked, rolling her eyes. "Now move! Work!"
Twenty minutes later, Megumi was behind the counter at The Cursed Bean. The smell of coffee was usually a comfort; today, it felt like a personal insult.
Inumaki Toge, the quietest member of the staff, tapped on the counter. He handed her a cup of green tea. "Salmon," he said firmly.
"Thanks, Inumaki," Megumi sighed, sipping the tea. "I know. I look like a wreck."
"Bonito flakes," Inumaki agreed, nodding.
"Fushiguro! You made it!" Panda, the shift manager who was essentially a giant, muscular hug in a barista apron, bounded over. "Yuta was in here earlier. He was worried about you! Word on the street is you got 'spirited away' by some pink-haired chick last night..."
"It wasn't... she just gave me a ride," Megumi muttered, hiding behind the espresso machine.
The bell chimed. Megumi couldn't even muster the energy to look up. "Welcome to the Bean, what can I—"
"I'll take a large black coffee and whatever you have that has the most protein," an oddly familiar, vibrant voice said.
Megumi looked up. Standing there, glowing with the post-workout radiance of someone who had probably never had a hangover in her life, was Itadori. She was wearing an oversized "UTokyo Volleyball" hoodie that hid her shorts from view.
She saw Megumi and grinned. It was a wide, too-genuine thing that made Megumi’s stomach do a weird flip.
"Hey, Shadow girl. Glad to see you’re upright."
"I... I'm working," Megumi said, her brain short-circuiting.
"I see that," Itadori leaned over the counter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, about that coffee you owe me? I think this one should be on the house."
Behind her, Panda was giving a thumbs up. Toge was staring intensely. Megumi felt her face catch fire.
"Five dollars," Megumi managed to choke out, staring at the register. "We don't make it a habit of offering free drinks to anyone who feels entitled to one." Ah, that came out way too mean.
Itadori laughed, sliding a ten-dollar bill across the counter. "Keep the change, Fushiguro. I’ll see you later. Don't work yourself too hard."
As Itadori walked out, the bell chiming behind her.
"Mustard leaf," Toge said, his lips slightly parted.
"She's hot," Panda boomed, slapping his hand onto Megumi's back playfully.
Megumi just put her head back down on the espresso machine.