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"How do you not know if they use butter in this dish?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I can write a note for the chef and get back to you."
Megumi is going to kill himself. He fiddles with the fork on the table, running his fingers over the tines. They're dull, which is disappointing. Maybe he could break skin if he stabbed himself hard enough.
"This feels like something they should teach you as a waiter at this restaurant. I'm sure you wouldn't know anyway, but what about seed oils?"
His date had been at this for the past thirty minutes. Every time Megumi thinks that there couldn't possibly be another specification made about the handful of ingredients in a noodle dish, he’s proven wrong. He feels bad for their waiter, Eso, who is currently enduring both an interrogation and an inane lecture from Kamo.
By the time Kamo starts on the benefits of unpasteurized milk, Megumi has officially zoned out. He stares blankly at condensation dripping down the side of his glass. Maybe, if Eso could get a knife from the kitchen, the two of them could pull off a murder-suicide. Or even better, they could just take the knife to Kamo.
Play nice, his sister's words echo in his head. A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of her overly sweet smile, poorly hiding her murderous intent. He doesn't want to incur Tsumiki's wrath, so he tables the knife idea.
Medical school is expensive, the Zen'ins are important, and killing their ally's heir is not a good idea.
Megumi grits his teeth and checks the time. Kamo is somehow still ordering, while Eso scribbles down notes on his pad, having flipped to a second page.
It's one of those moments that make Megumi wonder what choices in his life led him here. To think, he had been so excited to get into Todai as a transfer student. The second that he got accepted, he'd called his family, excited at the prospect of returning to Tokyo, of going to Todai, the best school in the country for medicine..
Of course, they were ecstatic. Tsumiki was already planning to fuss over him the second he got back, the voices on the video call overlapping to congratulate him on his achievement. Until Gojo grew uncharacteristically serious.
Just Megumi's luck that he happens to be related to the people who basically ran the entire university. Another thing he could curse his piece of shit dad for.
Normally, this would be a good thing. Apparently, being a Zen'in and a man meant that Megumi would have access to the most prestigious resources in the university: the best labs, the best opportunities, and an elite network of professors and doctors. The only issue is, Megumi kind of fucking hated them.
The Zen'in are snobs. They're old money rich, and used to getting what they want. And they really, really want Megumi. Turns out, in the entirety of their clan, Megumi is the only one who had gotten into his current class at Todai. Not to mention, he received a coveted animal research scholarship that was only given out once a decade.
Unfortunately for Megumi, this meant that the Zen'ins want to tout him around as if he was one of their own, as if he’s also a snobby, sexist, medical elite. They especially want him to attend the physicians gala at the end of the summer, where he was heavily encouraged (read: forced) to bring a plus one.
This had led to his current predicament. The Zen'ins were relentless in their matchmaking, setting Megumi up with the children of other rich, influential families.
The first date had been a disaster, with his own cousin, no less. Grossed out by that implication alone, Megumi had tried to tell them that he wasn't interested in women, least of all Zen'in Mai, but in a surprisingly progressive move, they started setting Megumi up with the sons of influential families instead. "At least we'll introduce more men into the family!" they had said.
Those dates were bearable, and at the very least no longer incestual, but still a pain in the ass. The last one hadn't been too bad though, a sweet boy named Okkostu Yuuta who had also been forced into this. Briefly, Megumi had contemplated faking a relationship with him to get out of this torture, but Okkotsu already had his eye on someone else from a clan family. Megumi was tempted to ask why he had agreed to these dates in the first place, but it wasn't his place.
So, here he is, on his fourth arranged date. With Kamo Noritoshi, from the distinguished Kamo family. The name is familiar, something he's seen on research papers, mostly regarding hematology. Megumi grits his teeth. The connections are worth it, he told himself. He didn't want his life in medical school to be a living hell. What was one more measly date?
"Fushiguro-san?"
Megumi looks up, setting down the fork he was fiddling with. Eso was looking at him expectantly. "Sorry, yes?"
"What would you like to order?"
"Oh, the ginger-garlic meatballs, please."
Eso nods, tension leaving his shoulders. There’s a look in his eye akin to that of a shell-shocked soldier as he grabs the menus off their table. "I'll be back with those drinks for you soon."
Kamo's attention turned back to Megumi. "It seems you're quite familiar with this place," he notes. "You didn't even look at the menu."
"I guess," Megumi shrugs. He wouldn't say that he was a regular here, but Nine Phases was one of his family's favorite places in town. It was nostalgic, more than anything. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays were always spent here. Just last month, they had come here to celebrate Tsumiki's engagement, and a couple months before that, they had celebrated Geto making tenure.
Megumi would be lying if he said that didn't miss it when he was at university. There was something special about this place, something that felt like home.
His family came frequently enough that he knew most of the waiters by name. It wasn't hard, as the restaurant was fully owned and operated by just ten brothers. Though it's been a while since Eso had waited on his table. It was usually …
A flash of pink hair caught his attention on the other side of the restaurant. Guess he's busy tonight.
"–and with such terrible lighting, too. Right, Fushiguro-san?"
Megumi blinks, pulling his gaze away from the man on the other side of the room. "Right," he nods, fiddling with the cutlery again.
He assumes Kamo had been complaining about the restaurant, which was what he’s been doing all night. Even though both of Megumi's guardians are professors, he was always sheltered from the high-nosed political side of academia.
Megumi wonders what it would have been like if they hadn't taken him in, if he would've turned out something like the man in front of him. He feels the urge to text them his gratitude for saving him from the Zen'in, but the unprovoked affection would probably have Gojo calling an ambulance to his location.
"I'm excited for a bright mind like you to join the university," Kamo says, sipping on his water. "It's quite a fine establishment, though you must run with the right crowds."
"I'm sure," Megumi nods. He's heard about how cliquey it can get, especially within the clans. And this time, he won't have his guardians to help him. "You're a fifth year yourself, right?"
"Yes. Which means that I'm already preparing for my rotations."
So early. "Makes sense," Megumi nods. This must be what it's like at a university as cutthroat as Todai.
"This service is deplorable," Kamo mutters. "I've been done with my glass for ages without a refill."
Megumi raises a brow at that. He wants to point out that it had barely been about a minute, and the restaurant was packed tonight, but he's cut off by more of Kamo's seemingly endless complaints about the place. The plates were too small, there’s too little cutlery, and the music was inane (because apparently, anyone with sense would choose traditional Japanese covers over Western orchestral ones). The list goes on and on, each complaint more vapid than the last.
He stifles a sigh. He's not sure how much more of this he can take.
Megumi stands abruptly, cutting off yet another of Kamo's complaints. "I need to use the restroom."
He doesn't wait for a response, already threading through the tables straight to the back of the restaurant.
The bathroom is empty. Megumi grips the porcelain sink, eyes trained on the drain. A quick check of his phone shows that he'd only been there for about fourty-five minutes.
There are a couple notifications on his phone. The top two are from Tsumiki, simply reading "Have fun tonight!" and "Text me when you're heading home". Then, there's one from Gojo who had checked his location and wanted dessert to-go. Megumi rolls his eyes at that, but makes a mental note to order it on his way out.
He scrolls through his phone for a bit to check his email, then plays a small game of sudoku. A couple people entered and exited at this point, shooting him odd looks as he leaned against the bathroom wall. It was reaching the point where if he were here any longer, Kamo might come looking for him.
Megumi tucks his phone in his back pocket and runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his tousled locks.
You can do this. You can make it through one date without punching Kamo in the face.
Slapping his cheeks, he steps out of the bathroom, and immediately crashes into a wall.
No, not a wall–
"Sorry," they both say in unison. Megumi's already on the floor, helping the man re-stack the cups he was holding.
Itadori Yuuji. He was the youngest of the brothers that ran Nine Phases, and the only one that was around Megumi's age. Itadori was his family's usual waiter, and Megumi finds himself associating the restaurant with him more often than not. Now that he thinks about it, he can't remember the last time his waiter wasn't the bubbly, pink-haired man.
Even now he’s as bright as ever, giving him a megawatt smile as if Megumi didn't just knock him over. "Fushiguro! It's been a while."
Megumi blinks. It always surprises him that Itadori even remembers his name with how many customers they get each night. He guesses its part of the charm of the restaurant, though a blush that threatens to rise to his cheeks. "It's nice to see you," he nods.
"I can't believe you're back in Tokyo so soon! Are you on holiday already?" Itadori asks, stacking the dishes onto the tray.
"Yes, and no," Megumi says, handing him a cup. Their fingers brush, and Megumi swallows thickly. "I'm on holiday, but only because I'm transferring. Back to Tokyo, I mean."
Itadori pauses, his lips parted for a moment before cracking in an even bigger smile. "That's nice. Guess I'll be seeing you around more often, then."
Megumi gives him a half-smile. "Maybe. You know how my family will take any excuse to come here. I don't think Gojo can go a month without the cheesecake, to be honest."
"That man's sweet tooth is really something," Itadori smiles. "How has your family been? How's your sister?"
"Good, just stressed. The wedding planning is really getting to her, but you know, one step at a time," Megumi says, handing him the last of the cups.
"That's good. You should let her know that we do catering, if she's ever interested," Itadori says, standing now that everything has been balanced precariously on his tray.
"Good to know," Megumi nods. He eyes the tower of dishes on Itadori's tray skeptically, looking one puff of wind away from toppling over. "Do you need help with that?"
Itadori glances over at Megumi's table, a look passing over his face that Megumi can't quite parse. "Don't worry, I got this! I don't want to keep you from your date."
"God, don't remind me," Megumi mutters. He forgot the reason he was here in the first place, lost in Itadori's effortless charm. He dusts off his knees, already dreading going back.
Itadori blinks, and then lets out a small laugh. "That bad, huh?"
Megumi groans at the thought of all the substitutions, the complaining, the snobbishness. "You don't even want to know."
"Where'd you even find a guy like that? It's not often you see someone wearing a yukata outside of a festival."
Megumi bristles at the implication of his poor taste. "Not exactly my choice, it was ... an arranged date."
"Ah, like a blind date?"
"Kind of, except the people choosing the guys are my extended family that I hate."
Itadori whistles. "Sounds rough."
"It's fine," Megumi says. "I just need to survive till the end of the night. It’s either that, or killing myself with the salad fork."
Itadori laughs at that. "Please don't get blood on the cutlery." He looks over at the table, then back at Megumi. "How badly do you wanna get out of this?"
"More than anything."
"I might have an idea," Itadori says, a glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.
Megumi raises a brow. "I have a feeling this is a really, really stupid plan."
"Probably," Itadori flashes a grin. "But something tells me you don't care."
"I don't," he admits, his heart jumping to his throat. "Do your worst."
"Don't worry, I will." With that, Itadori stacks the last of the cups and disappears into the kitchen.
"That's not ominous at all," Megumi mutters to himself. As he makes his way back to his table, he ignores the somersault routine his heart does in his chest.
He's sure Itadori doesn't mean to be flirty. It's always been like that, between them. Itadori just ... exists and Megumi starts getting flustered. Megumi's just imagining it.
Even though they never really talked outside the restaurant, Megumi can't deny that he might harbor the tiniest, most infinitesimal crush on the man. In his defense, who wouldn't? Itadori was kind, and thoughtful, and somehow getting even more gorgeous each time Megumi saw him.
It didn't help that every time they ate here, his family would egg him on, making innuendos and embarrassing Megumi to no end. Gojo and Geto were particularly terrible about it when Itadori first started waiting on tables back in high school. And, to think that was almost a decade ago.
By the time Megumi makes it back to the table, the food has already arrived. Kamo has already started picking at his food disinterestedly.
"Sorry," Megumi says, scooting back into his side of the booth. "Long line."
Kamo hums, taking a small bite of his dish. Something about it looked off. The dish looked oddly soulless and gray, nothing like what Megumi had seen served here before.
Afraid of starting up another round of grievances, Megumi ignores him in favor of digging into his own food. No matter how many times he orders it, the simple dish never fails to disappoint. He savors each bite, a brief reprieve from the terror that was this date.
Kamo had barely touched his food when the complaints started again. Megumi can't even bring himself to care, tuning him out in favor of focusing on the meatballs in front of him, nodding occasionally to pretend he's listening.
When he's about a quarter through his dish, Kamo manages to flag down another poor waiter. Megumi sets down his fork, prepared to do damage control, when he hears a loud clang as something crashes to the ground next to him.
He sits up in his seat, turning his attention to where a stack of empty cups is strewn across the floor. Itadori is standing in front of their table, his eyes wide and face pale, as if he had just seen a ghost.
Megumi frowns and reaches out to help, until Itadori clutches his heart with a theatrical gasp.
"You-you–" Itadori stammers, stumbling backwards. His gaze flits between Megumi and Kamo, once, twice, until finally landing on Kamo. "You homewrecker!"
Kamo's eyebrows jump to the top of his head, and Megumi is wearing a twin expression of shock. This was the idiot's plan?
"Excuse me?" Kamo asks, tilting his head slightly in confusion.
"How dare you! You can't come into my establishment and dine with my boyfriend, you Edo era hoodlum!"
Edo era hoodlum? Megumi stifles a laugh, hiding it poorly behind his hand.
Thankfully, Kamo pays him no attention, instead focusing on the pink-haired hurricane in front of him. "I think you must be mistaken–"
"How could I not recognize my boyfriend, my schnukiputz–" Megumi chokes on his water, “ –the light of my life, Megumi." As if Megumi isn't already dying of embarrassment, Itadori wraps a hand around his shoulders, holding him flush against his side.
Kamo's gaze flits between the two of them, eyebrows scrunching together in thought. "Are you messing with me, right now, Fushiguro?"
Before Megumi can even respond, Itadori lets out an offended gasp. "How dare you even imply that my love for Megumi is a joke! Get out of my restaurant, you homewrecker! Haven't you done enough?"
"Who are you?" Kamo mutters, looking Itadori up and down. Megumi bristles at the disgust evident in his face.
Itadori ignores him, dropping to his knees as Megumi's feet. He feels heat rise to the tips of his ears. What the hell is he doing?
"Please Megumi! Don't leave me!" He clutches his chest for dramatic effect, and Megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes. "What does that worn-out, foul-mouth, butthurt, ratchety short-stack eddoko have that I don't?"
The other customers have begun to take note of the scene, multiple eyes trained on the three of them. Kamo seems to notice the growing attention and lets out a heavy sigh.
"Ok, that's it, I'm done," Kamo says, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. He turns to Megumi. "Your ex-boyfriend is insane. I hope you get therapy. Or a restraining order."
There is a smattering of applause as he exits, which Megumi feels a bit guilty about. But he feels slightly better when he catches the sight of Eso in the corner, letting out a sigh of relief at Kamo's retreating form.
Itadori is still kneeling beside him. A small crowd formed at this point, watching as the scene unfolded. Heat rises to Megumi's cheeks at the attention.
"Please, Megumi. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, I'll do anything." Somehow, Itadori has shifted to being on one knee, and is holding a small pink plastic ring in his hand, printed with tigers. Where the hell did he even get that? "Will you take me back?"
Megumi is going to kill him. He's actually going to kill him. What was this even for? Kamo had already left.
The gaggle around them grew quiet, waiting with baited breath for Megumi's answer. Itadori is staring at him, with those big, brown, gorgeous doe eyes and Megumi wants to both hit him in the head and pull him into a kiss. For a second, he could almost delude himself that it's real.
He nods and takes Itadori's hand.
The crowd cheers, and Itadori slides the ring onto his middle finger. He stands up from where he was kneeling to give a small bow, and someone gives them a wolf whistle.
Itadori slides into the seat across from him and gives him a thumbs up and cheesy smile. "So? How did I do?"
"What the hell was that?" Megumi seethes. "That was your master plan? Embarrassing me in front of the entire restaurant?"
"Technically, I was embarrassing myself," Itadori corrects, as if that changed anything. "And it worked, didn't it?"
"I–" It did work. Technically. It wasn't the cleanest way to go about it, especially given that Kamo probably hated Megumi's guts now, but he still felt a sweet sort of satisfaction at pissing him off, however ridiculous it may be. "Thank you."
Itadori blinks at him, a grin stretching across his face. "No problem, Fushiguro. It was pretty fun, honestly. Sorry if I went too far, though."
Megumi blushes at the memory of Itadori pushed up against him. "I-no, um, it was. Fine. Otherwise, they wouldn't believe us, right?"
"Right," Itadori says, a playful smile on his lips. He grabs a forkful of Kamo's noodles, and wrinkles his nose. "Ugh, why does it taste like that? This is terrible."
"What a glowing review of your family's restaurant."
"Hey! Whatever this is, it's not one of our recipes," Itadori cringes. "What the hell did he order?"
"Hell if I know. He made a thousand substitutions for god knows what," Megumi says, turning his attention back to his own unfinished plate. Thankfully the food hadn't gotten cold yet, so he could at least savor this meal.
It seemed that Itadori was averse to wasting food, because even though the dish was terrible, he stays and eats it with Megumi. Surprisingly, Itadori was really easy to talk to, and Megumi found himself enjoying his company more than he thought he would. He tells Megumi about his time at the restaurant, how his sister-in-law is expecting again, and how he’s thinking of joining the firefighter academy soon. Megumi, in turn, tells him all about how he’s transferring back to Tokyo, about the chaos of wedding planning, and the whole saga with the Zen’ins.
At some point, Itadori takes a long gulp of water and sets his fork down. “I can’t even eat this anymore. Can I have one of your meatballs?"
Megumi's about to respond, but is interrupted by an action figure being plopped on the table between them.
At first, all Megumi sees is spiky tufts of brown hair, until the kid cranes his neck up. A wide smile stretches on his face, revealing several gaps in his teeth. The boy's big brown eyes are trained on Yuuji. "You're not allowed to eat with the customers."
Itadori seems unfazed by the random appearance of the child and sends him a glare. "You're a little shit, you know that?"
The child tilts his head, eyes widening in faux innocence. "What's a 'shit'?"
"You-" Itadori cuts himself off, most likely to stop him from saying worse. His face is turning red, Megumi notices. It's cute. "If I give you 400 yen, can you not tell anyone about this?"
"Not even oto-san?"
"Not even oto-san."
Megumi's gaze flits between the two of them. Itadori looks deathly serious, a frown etched across his face.
The kid seems to contemplate Itadori's offer, tapping his chin in thought. "Then make it 1200 yen."
Another icy glare, followed by Itadori pulling out his wallet. "Fine, 800 yen, and that's it."
"Deal!" Before Itadori could even put his wallet away, the kid had already sauntered off, action figure and crisp new bill in hand.
"You make it a habit to bribe children?" Megumi teases, quirking an eyebrow.
Itadori pouts, resting his head in his hand. "Only my nephew. But it's not all my fault; he's spoiled so much by Choso and the rest of my brothers, he's already a little con man in the making. Already milking the fact he's the new baby of the family."
"And who was the old one?"
Itadori stays silent, shoveling the apparently abhorrent noodles in his mouth.
Megumi stifles a laugh. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you."
"And yet it scored me a date with you, didn't it?" Itadori fires back, twirling the noodles in his plate.
Megumi freezes. Itadori must have realized his mistake, because he started backpedalling immediately, eyes wide as saucers. "Not that this is–I didn't mean to imply–"
"I wouldn't call this a date," Megumi says, setting his fork down. "But I wouldn't be averse to one."
"Yeah?" Itadori watches him, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"Would you like to go to the physician's gala with me and supremely piss off my rich, stuck-up family?"
"I would love to. I promise to be just as obnoxious as today." Itadori is grinning now.. "And maybe, after that, we could go on a real date?"
Megumi blushes, giving him a half smile. "I'd like that."
"Otoutou!" A voice bellows from the kitchen. "Are you eating with the customers?"
"That little–" Itadori curses, hopping out of his seat. He pulls a small notepad and tears out a page, scribbling something on it. "Ok, I gotta go before my brother kills me, but here's my number. Call me."
Itadori is already booking it out of there, when Megumi realizes what's still on his finger. "Itadori, your ring–"
"Keep it!" he winks, and then disappears into the back.
Megumi punches the number into his phone before he forgets, and gingerly places the note into his pocket. It was stupid, but his heart was beating so fast, he felt like a high schooler again. Reluctantly, a smile spreads across his face.
His family is never going to let him live this down.