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Fushiguro Megumi has the most beautiful eyes Yuuji has ever seen in his life.
That's what he's thinking right now instead of being focused on the game, or watching the ball.
But he can't help it; after all, do you see such deep and gorgeous emerald eyes every day?
Currently, they are doing one of those drills where the ball just keeps coming back, over and over, like it is personally offended by anyone trying to rest. Yuuji knows he is supposed to be watching the ball, He is even facing the right direction.
Unfortunately, Fushiguro Megumi exists.
The ball comes up. Someone passes it. It goes high enough that Yuuji thinks, vaguely, oh, this is mine. He shifts his feet, late and wrong, because he is still thinking about eyes and how unfair it is that someone can look that focused all the time.
Fushiguro sets it.
It is clean and sharp and definitely meant for Yuuji, which makes everything so much worse. His hands come up like they are arguing with his brain.
The ball finds him anyway.
It hits him square in the face with a loud, humiliating thump and drops straight down like it is disappointed in him.
Then Nobara absolutely loses it.
“Oh my god,” she wheezes from the sidelines. “Man, I wish I had recorded that”
“Shut up,” Yuuji says, sitting down hard and pressing a hand to his nose.
Fushiguro is there a second later, crouching in front of him, concern clear on his face even as his mouth twitches.
“You okay, Itadori?” he asks and he puts a hand on his shoulder, making him blush pink.
I'm so pathetic, He thinks as he keeps trying to regain some composure on the floor.
Yuuji nods, dignity in shambles. “Yeah. I just… misjudged the trajectory.” He says because, I was so focused on your royal-like beauty and I wasn't paying enough attention to the game, is definitely not something he can tell him right now, or ever.
“Go and sit down, You need to take a break.” Fushiguro answers, and Yuuji protests immediately.
“I can still play” Because it's true! He feels fine and has plenty of energy still.“You have been playing good, but right now you aren't going to help us, so go”
And Yuuji wants to feel offended really bad, but he finds it hard when Fushiguro is talking softly and using actual arguments that make sense.
So he gives up and sits at the bench, and to his disgrace, Nobara and Maki start approaching him.
“So,” Nobara says, arms crossed. “Is the ball okay?”
Yuuji groans. “I’m fine.”
“Tragic,” Nobara says. “I was hoping you’d learned a lesson.”
Yuuji leans back against the bench. “It was an accident.”
“Uh-huh,” Nobara says. “And I accidentally noticed you staring at the captain instead of the ball.”
Maki stops beside them, arms crossed, eyes flicking briefly toward the court where Fushiguro has already gone back to calling the drill.
“You missed a perfect set,” she says calmly. “That takes talent.”
“That is not comforting,” Yuuji mutters.
Nobara grins wider. “It is if you consider that the only reason you missed it is because you were too busy making heart eyes.”
“I was not,” Yuuji says immediately, which is a mistake.
Maki raises an eyebrow. “You were.”
“Painfully so,” Nobara adds. “Honestly, I respect it. Fushiguro does have that whole brooding genius thing going on.”
Yuuji pulls the towel over his face. “Please stop talking.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Nobara says brightly. “This is the first crush of the season. Very exciting for us.”
Yuuji peeks out from under the towel. “You are all evil.”
Nobara pats his knee. “And you are predictable.”
They leave him there, humiliated and red-faced, listening to the rhythm of the game continue without him. From the bench, he watches Fushiguro move across the court, completely unaware that half of the team has already diagnosed Yuuji’s problem.
Sitting on the bench gives Yuuji too much time to think, which is usually how he ends up in trouble.
He never planned on joining the volleyball team, It just sort of happened. One day he was messing around in PE, jumping too high and running too fast because it was fun, and the next day a teacher was asking him if he had ever considered playing seriously. Yuuji had laughed, said no, but he liked trying things, and somehow that had turned into tryouts and borrowed shoes and a jersey with his name printed on the back.
He still does not fully understand positions, but opposite hitter sounded cool, and everyone seemed excited about how hard he could hit the ball. That helped.
The team itself is easier to understand, Inumaki barely talks but somehow always knows where to stand. The guy everyone nicknames as Panda is loud, friendly, and encouraging in a way that makes Yuuji want to try harder. Yuta is calm and patient, the kind of senior who checks in without making it obvious. Maki and Nobara run the team like they own it, which, honestly, they kind of do.
Somewhere between the first time Fushiguro set to him perfectly and the first time he said “good job” like he meant it, Yuuji had started paying too much attention.
Yuuji presses his palms together and exhales.
He joined the team because it looked fun. He stayed because he liked the people. And now, apparently, he is risking his physical safety because he has a crush on the captain.
“Rough debut.”
Yuuji startles a little and looks to his left. Hakari is sprawled across the bench like he owns it, jacket half unzipped and chewing on a piece of gum.
“I got hit in the face,” Yuuji says.
Hakari nods. “Yeah. I saw” He makes a pause, then says “You like him.”
Yuuji freezes. “What.”
Hakari shrugs. “Relax. You are not subtle.”
“I am,” Yuuji insists weakly.
“You stared at him through an entire drill and then took a set to the face,” Hakari says. “That is a pattern.”
Yuuji drops his head back against the wall. “I am going to die.”
“Probably not,” Hakari says. “But you are definitely going to keep messing up if you do nothing about it.”
Yuuji turns to look at him. “Do what?”
Hakari pops the gum to the side of his mouth, thoughtful. “Ask him to practice with you.”
“What,” Yuuji says immediately. “No. That sounds terrifying.”
“He never says no, especially if it is about volleyball. If someone asks him for help, he helps. That is just how he is.”
Yuuji frowns. “You say that like you have tried.”
Hakari smirks. “Everyone has.”
He nods toward the court again. “You want to spend time with him without making it weird, That is your excuse. Practice and get better, he gets to be useful, You get to hang out with the captain. Win-win.”
Yuuji considers this, It sounds reasonable.
“What if he thinks I am bad,” Yuuji asks nervously.
Hakari snorts. “You are new, not bad. And he already put you on the court, did he not? Trust me. If Fushiguro did not think you had potential, he would not bother.”
Yuuji sits up straighter, gaining a little more courage “You really think so?”
“I gamble,” Hakari says. “I am good at odds.”
Yuuji laughs, short and surprised. “Did you not get in trouble for that with the school?”
Hakari grins. “Allegedly.”
The whistle blows. Hakari stands, stretching lazily.
“Ask him after,” he says, already turning away. “Worst case, he says no. Which he will not.”
Yuuji watches him go, heart thumping a little harder than before. He looks back at the court, at Fushiguro moving so strongly.
Maybe Hakari is right, even though he is one of the worst behaved seniors and he almost got expelled once, the guy sometimes has good advice. Or maybe Yuuji is really desperate and hopeless.
He tries to shake his thoughts as he gets ready to go back.
When Yuuji steps back onto the court, the game moves fast enough that he does not have time to overthink. The ball keeps coming. Someone shouts his name. He jumps when he is supposed to, hits when he can, misses a few, lands a few. The crowd noise blurs into something distant, replaced by the sound of shoes and hands and breathing.
They win.
It is not a dramatic final point, just a solid rally that ends with the ball hitting the other side of the court and not coming back. Everyone cheers and Panda lifts Inumaki off the ground.
Yuuji grins, chest tight with leftover adrenaline.
As people start grabbing water bottles and towels, the nervousness creeps back in. It settles in his shoulders, his hands, his stomach. Hakari’s words replay in his head, annoyingly calm and confident.
“Ask him after”
Yuuji watches Fushiguro for a few seconds too long. He is writing something down, talking quietly to Yuta.
Yuuji exhales and walks over.
“Hey,” he says, stopping a little too close, then stepping back. “Fushiguro.”
Fushiguro looks up. “Yeah.”
“I was thinking,” He rubs the back of his neck. “I want to get better. At hitting. Timing and stuff.”
Fushiguro listens, expression neutral but attentive.
“So,” Yuuji continues, words tumbling out faster now, “I was wondering if maybe you could set for me sometime. Like after practice, If you are not busy—-Which you probably are” This is going horribly wrong, god. “It is okay if not.” He finishes his invitation.
There is a pause, then Fushiguro nods.
“Sure,” he says. “That sounds fine.”
Yuuji blinks. “Really.”
“Yeah,” Fushiguro repeats. “You have good power. You just need reps.”
Yuuji’s smile feels too big for his face. “Okay. Cool. Yeah. That would be great.”
Fushiguro gathers his things, already moving toward the door. “We can stay a bit today if you want.”
Yuuji follows him, heart pounding, trying very hard not to look like someone who just won something much bigger than a volleyball game.
They stay.
At first it is just a few sets, nothing serious. Fushiguro stands at the net, calm and focused, tossing the ball lightly from hand to hand while Yuuji positions himself on the right side. The gym empties slowly around them.
“Whenever you are ready,” Fushiguro says.
Yuuji nods and jogs back a few steps. The set comes clean, but he hits too early, and sends the ball into the net.
“Sorry,” Yuuji says immediately. “I am not that good yet.”
Fushiguro shakes his head. “Do not say that.”
Yuuji is confused “Uh?”
“You are new,” Fushiguro says, resetting the ball. “That is different.”
He sets again. This time Yuuji waits, jumps, and connects better. The ball lands in bounds with a satisfying sound.
Fushiguro nods once, happy “See.”
They fall into a rhythm after that.
Fushiguro gives short instructions, correcting Yuuji’s timing, his approach, and his footwork. Yuuji listens with attention.
At some point, Yuuji laughs, breathless. “I feel like I am slowing you down.”
“You are not,” Fushiguro says. “You learn fast.”
Yuuji hesitates, then admits, “I just do not want to mess things up for the team.”
Fushiguro pauses before the next set. He looks thoughtful, then says, “You have a lot of power. And you pay attention. That matters more than being perfect.”
Yuuji swallows. “You really think so.”
“I would not stay if I did not,” Fushiguro replies simply.
The light outside the gym shifts while they practice, the afternoon stretches into evening without either of them noticing. Eventually, Yuuji glances at the clock and startles. “It is late.”
Fushiguro follows his gaze and hums. “Yeah. We should stop.”
They clean up together, quiet but not awkward. At the door, Yuuji hesitates again, the way he seems to be doing a lot today.
“Thanks,” he says. “For helping me.”
Fushiguro meets his eyes. “Anytime.”
They part outside the gym. Yuuji waves, a little too enthusiastically, and turns toward home. He breaks into a run halfway down the street, heart light, energy buzzing through him like he has just won another game.
He gets home still buzzing.
He kicks his shoes off at the door and almost starts running, then remembers to walk normally before his grandpa starts lecturing him about indoor manners. The house smells like dinner and old furniture.
“You’re late,” his grandpa calls from the living room.
“Practice,” Yuuji says, grinning.
Sukuna, his mean twin brother who pretends he does not care but absolutely does, looks up from the couch. “You look annoying,” he says. “Did you finally find a personality?”
“Missed you too,” Yuuji replies.
Choso, his older brother, leans against the hallway wall, already frowning with concern. “Did you eat?”
“I will,” Yuuji promises, heading to his room.
He drops onto his bed and turns on his console, controller familiar in his hands. The game loads. He immediately dies because he is thinking about green eyes and quiet voices and the way Fushiguro said he had potential like it was a fact.
“Wow,” Sukuna’s voice drifts in from the doorway. “You’re losing already. Pathetic.”
“I’m distracted,” Yuuji says, smiling anyway.
Choso knocks once and peeks in. “Do not stay up too late.”
“I won’t,” Yuuji says.
When they leave him alone, Yuuji leans back, staring at the ceiling while the game runs in the background. He imagines the gym, the ball, the set, the way everything felt easy for once.
He dies again.
Yuuji laughs to himself and thinks that today was a really good day, before his mind starts going over to his team captain. Because the thing about Fushiguro is that every detail about him makes him more interesting.
At first, he seemed cold and distant, like he had already decided not to get close to anyone. He does not talk much, does not joke during practice, does not raise his voice unless he has to. When Yuuji first met him, he thought Fushiguro might not like him very much.
But that is not it at all.
Fushiguro is just quiet in a way that makes people mistake him. He listens more than he speaks. When someone messes up, he does not get angry, he just thinks. When someone is struggling, he notices before they say anything. He helps without making it obvious, like he does not want credit for it.
Yuuji thinks that says a lot about a person.
Outside of volleyball, everyone knows Fushiguro is the best student in their class. It seems like he is good at everything he tries, but he never acts proud about it. If anything, it feels like he carries the responsibility.
Sometimes, when he looks at Fushiguro on the court, Yuuji gets the feeling that he cares too much.
Yuuji wonders if that ever gets tiring.
He wonders if Fushiguro knows how much the team depends on him, or if he just keeps moving forward because that is what he thinks he is supposed to do.
The thought makes something warm and protective settle in Yuuji’s chest.
Maybe that is why he wants to get better so badly. Not just to play well, but to be someone Fushiguro does not have to worry about. Someone he can trust without thinking twice.
Yuuji stares at the ceiling, the controller forgotten beside him, and smiles softly.
A moment later his phone vibrates beside him.
He grabs it without thinking, expecting something boring, but Kirara’s name pops up on the screen instead.
That makes him smile a little. She has always been cool with him, in that easy way that makes talking feel simple. Her hair is dyed in soft but impossible colors that never seem to fade properly, and her piercings glint every time she moves. She talks with her hands, and somehow knows everything that happens before anyone else does.
Her message is pretty short.
Party tomorrow. My place.
Yuuji blinks at it, then rereads it.
A second message follows almost immediately.
You can invite your captain too, Kirara adds. He looks like he needs to be around people.
Yuuji’s thumb stills.
He stares at the screen longer than necessary, heart picking up in a way that feels almost embarrassing. He imagines Fushiguro at a party and cannot quite picture it. Standing quietly near the edge of the room, probably watching everyone else instead of joining in.
Maybe it would be nice to see him like that. Outside the gym, just being himself.
Yuuji sets the phone down slowly and exhales. A party does sound like a fun way to spend his weekend.
And maybe, if he is brave enough, it could be the perfect reason to ask Fushiguro to spend more time with him.
Yuuji almost backs out three times before he actually does it.
They are packing up after practice when he finally forces himself to walk over.
“Fushiguro,” he says.
Megumi looks up. “Yeah?”
“There’s, um,” Yuuji starts, then stops. He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a party tomorrow. Kirara’s hosting it.”
Megumi blinks once. “A party?”
“Yeah,” Yuuji says quickly. “You don’t have to come or anything. I just thought I’d ask.”
Megumi looks away for a moment, eyes drifting toward the empty court. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I’m not really good at that kind of thing.”
“Oh,” Yuuji replies, trying not to sound disappointed. “That’s okay.”
He means it, really.
Then Megumi adds, “But I could stop by. For a bit.”
Yuuji looks up so fast it almost hurts. “Really.”
“Yeah,” Megumi says. “If it gets loud, I’ll just leave.”
“That’s fair,” Yuuji says, grinning without meaning to.
Megumi watches him for a second, expression unreadable again. Then he stands, grabbing his bag.
“Text me the time,” he says.
“Okay,” Yuuji replies, heart doing something stupid in his chest.
As Megumi walks past him, Yuuji thinks that he still does not really understand Fushiguro Megumi at all.
But he can try harder, he will.
By the time Yuuji gets to Kirara’s place, he can already hear the music from the sidewalk.
Someone has propped the front door open with a shoe. There are people sitting on the steps, two arguing quietly about something that definitely does not matter, another one throwing up into the bushes while their friend pats their back and says, “You’re fine, you’re fine,” like that means anything.
Yuuji steps over a spilled drink on the floor as he walks in.
Inside is crowded but not in an exciting way, just warm and loud. Someone is playing music from a speaker that cuts out every few seconds. The living room is full of people standing too close together, talking over each other.
“Yuuji,” someone says.
He turns and it is a guy from his class whose name he forgets every time.
“Hey,” Yuuji says anyway.
He grabs a cup from the counter without really thinking about it, It tastes bad but he drinks it anyway.
Hakari is leaning against the fridge. When he sees Yuuji, he nods once like that is all the greeting he needs.
Kirara passes by at some point and bumps Yuuji’s arm lightly. “You’re early.”
“Am I,” Yuuji says.
She shrugs. “People are still showing up.”
Yuuji ends up sitting on the floor with a few others, playing some stupid game that involves counting and clapping and immediately forgetting whose turn it is.
Still, every so often, he checks the door without realizing he is doing it, but he knows exactly who he is waiting for.
Maybe 40 minutes later, the door opens and he sees him.
Fushiguro stands near the entrance, still wearing his jacket, like he has not decided if he is staying or leaving yet. He pauses there, eyes scanning the room with that familiar serious expression. He steps inside and immediately gets bumped by someone rushing past. He stiffens, mutters a quiet “sorry” even though it was not his fault, then presses himself closer to the wall like he is trying to become part of it.
He looks uncomfortable in a way that is almost impressive.
Yuuji watches him check his phone, puts it away, then checks it again ten seconds later. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Someone says something to him and he nods politely without really engaging.
He looks… cute. Not on purpose. Just very Fushiguro.
Yuuji realizes he has been staring when someone nudges his shoulder.
“You good,” they ask.
“Yeah,” Yuuji says quickly. “Yeah.”
Megumi glances up again, and this time their eyes meet.
It is brief, but Megumi’s expression changes just a little. kinda with relief. Like he is glad to see one familiar face.
He pushes himself up from the floor before he can overthink it, weaving through people, apologizing when he steps on someone’s foot.
When he finally reaches him, Megumi looks almost surprised.
“You came,” Yuuji says, like he had ever doubted it.
“I said I would,” Megumi replies.
There is a beat.
“It’s loud,” Yuuji says.
Megumi exhales softly. “Yeah.”
Yuuji grins. “You wanna hide in the kitchen with me. It’s slightly less terrible.”
Megumi hesitates. Then nods.
“Okay.”
Yuuji leads the way into the kitchen, squeezing past the people.
“Sorry. Sorry,” he mutters, then looks back to make sure Megumi is still there.
He is there. A little stiff but still following.
“This is better,” Yuuji says once they reach the counter. “You can actually hear yourself think.”
Megumi nods. “Barely.”
Yuuji laughs. “Yeah. But compared to out there, this is peaceful.”
They stand there for a second. Yuuji grabs a soda from the counter and offers one to Megumi.
“Do you drink,” he asks, then immediately adds, “Like. Alcohol. I mean. You don’t have to. I just—”
Megumi shakes his head. “No. This is fine.”
Yuuji hands him the soda and their fingers brush for a second maybe.
“So,” Yuuji says. “Do you go to parties often.”
Megumi snorts softly. “No.”
“Yeah, that checks out.”
Megumi glances at him. “You do.”
“Sometimes,” Yuuji says. “Mostly when someone drags me.”
He takes another sip. “I like people, though. Even when they’re annoying.”
Megumi hums. “You’re good at that.”
“At what.”
“Being around people,” Megumi says. “They like you.”
Yuuji shrugs. “I just talk.”
Megumi watches him for a moment. “You listen too.”
That catches him off guard.
“Oh,” Yuuji says. “I guess.”
They fall quiet again, but it is not awkward.
“What about you,” Yuuji asks. “You always look busy.”
Megumi exhales. “I kind of am.”
“With school and volleyball?”
“And my sister,” he adds. “It’s just us.”
“Oh,” Yuuji says softly.
“She’s fine,” Megumi says quickly. “Just… clumsy. I worry sometimes”
Yuuji nods. “I get that.”
“My family’s loud,” he says. “I live with my grandpa. And my brothers.”
“Brothers,” Megumi repeats.
“Yeah. One’s my twin. He’s awful on purpose.” Megumi almost smiles.
“And the other one,” Yuuji continues, “acts like he’s thirty-five and stressed all the time.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” Yuuji says. “But it’s home.”
Megumi nods slowly. “That’s good.”
They end up sitting on the floor when the counter gets crowded. Someone steps over their legs and apologizes. Yuuji laughs it off.
“What do you like to do,” he asks. “When you’re not being responsible.”
Megumi thinks about it. “I like dogs.”
They talk about stupid things after that, about movies Megumi never finishes, About all the videogames Yuuji is bad at. At some point, Yuuji checks his phone and surprises himself.
“Wait,” he says. “It’s almost midnight.”
Megumi looks too. “We’ve been talking that long.”
Yuuji smiles without meaning to. “Didn’t feel like it.”
Megumi hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. It didn’t.”
They leave the kitchen together when the music dips again and someone starts loudly arguing about ordering food.
Yuuji grabs his jacket from the back of a chair. Megumi slips his own more carefully, tugging the sleeves down before following him outside.
“That was… fun,” Yuuji says finally, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean. Not the party. Just— talking.”
Megumi nods. “Yeah. I don’t usually stay that long.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Megumi looks at him, expression unreadable for a moment, then says, “Me too.”
They start walking without really deciding to, side by side down the sidewalk. Their steps fall into the same rhythm.
“My house is this way,” Yuuji says after a bit.
“Mine too,” Megumi replies. “For now.”
They slow near the corner.
Yuuji shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly aware of how quiet it is “Thanks for coming. I know parties aren’t really your thing.”
“I wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t asked,” Megumi says simply.
Yuuji blinks. “Oh.”
“Practice tomorrow,” Megumi adds. “If you’re still up for it.”
Yuuji smiles. “Yeah. Definitely.”
Megumi hesitates like he wants to say something else. Then he just says, “Get home safe.”
“You too,” Yuuji replies.
Megumi steps back, then turns to go. After a few steps, he stops and glances over his shoulder.
“Goodnight, Itadori.”
Yuuji 's chest feels warm. “Goodnight, Fushiguro.”
Megumi nods once and keeps walking.
Yuuji watches until he disappears down the street. Only then does he turn toward home, smiling to himself for no real reason, replaying the night over and over like it might slip away if he does not hold onto it.
Monday comes too fast.
Yuuji is still thinking about the party when he sits down in chemistry class, chin resting in his hand, leg bouncing under the desk. He wonders if Fushiguro is thinking about it too, or if he already filed it away like everything else he does.
Megumi sits two rows ahead of him. He does not turn around.
The teacher claps her hands once, sharp and loud.
“Alright, everyone. For the next unit, you’ll be working on a partner project.”
A collective groan fills the room.
Yuuji straightens a little.
“You’ll be designing and presenting a reaction model. This will take two weeks,” she continues. “I’ve already assigned partners, so don’t ask to switch.”
She starts reading names. Yuuji half listens, attention drifting, until he hears his own.
“Itadori Yuuji.”
He looks up.
“Fushiguro Megumi.”
For a second, he thinks he imagined it.
Then Megumi turns in his seat, just slightly, eyes finding him across the classroom. After class, chaos breaks out immediately. People complain, beg, argue.
Yuuji lingers by his desk, pretending to organize his bag, Megumi approaches him a moment later.
“We should probably meet sometime this week,” he says.
“Yeah,” Yuuji replies. “Definitely. I’m really bad at chemistry, by the way.”
Megumi exhales softly. “I noticed.”
“Hey!” Fushiguro can be mean when he wants to.
“I can explain it,” Megumi adds. “If you want.”
Yuuji smiles without thinking. “I’d like that.”
They decide on the weekend. Megumi says his place is quieter. Yuuji agrees immediately and then spends the rest of the day wondering what his house looks like, what kind of music he listens to, if his sister will be there.
When they part ways at the lockers, Megumi says, “Don’t forget.”
“As if I could,” Yuuji says.
Megumi gives him a look, then turns away.
Yuuji stands there for a second longer than necessary, heart doing that familiar thing again, already counting the days until Saturday.
Megumi’s house is smaller than Yuuji expected.
Not cramped, just quiet. The kind of place that feels lived in but careful, like everyone inside tries not to take up too much space.
“This is mine,” Megumi says, unlocking the door.
Yuuji nods. “It’s nice.”
Megumi doesn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he almost did.
Inside, the smell of food hits him immediately.
“Tsumiki,” Megumi calls. “I’m home.”
A voice answers right away. “Welcome back!”
She appears from the kitchen with a soft smile, wiping her hands on a towel. She looks kind in a way that makes Yuuji straighten his back without meaning to.
“And you must be Itadori,” she says. “I’m Tsumiki.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Yuuji blurts out, bowing a little.
She laughs. “You don’t have to do that.”
Before Megumi can say anything, a voice comes from the living room.
“So that’s him.”
Yuuji turns.
There’s a tall man lounging on the couch like he owns the place. He has white hair and sunglasses on. Relaxed and way too comfortable for someone in someone else’s house.
Megumi visibly stiffens.
“…why are you here?”
The man grins. “That’s no way to greet someone who’s known you since you were in diapers”
“I was seven!” Megumi snaps.
Yuuji looks between them. “…who is that?”
Megumi exhales through his nose. “That’s Gojo.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“He’s,” Megumi hesitates, clearly annoyed with himself, “a family friend. Kind of.”
“Kind of?” Yuuji repeats.
Gojo pops up instantly. “Guardian, technically.”
Yuuji’s eyes widen. “Oh. Like. Legally?”
“Not exactly,” Megumi mutters.
“I teach physics at a college,” Gojo adds helpfully. “And occasionally make sure this kid eats real meals.”
“I eat,” Megumi says.
“You forget.”
Yuuji tries very hard not to stare. The guy does not act like any adult he has ever met in his life.
Tsumiki claps her hands gently. “Dinner’s ready. You both must be starving.”
Megumi opens his mouth. Probably to say they’ll eat later.
Gojo beats him to it. “You’re staying, Itadori.”
Yuuji panics a little. “I can go if—”
“You can’t,” Megumi says quickly, then looks away. “…she already made enough.”
Dinner feels strangely normal considering everything.
Yuuji listens more than he talks. Learns things without meaning to.
That Megumi lives here with just Tsumiki.
That their parents aren’t really in the picture.
That Gojo “checks in” sometimes, which seems to mean showing up unannounced and annoying Megumi on purpose.
“You don’t have to talk about me,” Megumi mutters at one point.
“We’re not,” Tsumiki says gently. “We’re just explaining.”
Yuuji watches Megumi pick at his food, shoulders tight like he’s bracing for something that never comes.
When Megumi finally glances at him, it’s quiet.
“Sorry,” he says. “He’s… like that.”
Yuuji smiles. “It’s okay. He’s kind of funny.”
Megumi groans.
After dinner, Megumi stands abruptly. “We’re going to my room.”
Gojo raises a finger. “Door open.”
“We’re doing chemistry.”
“I know,” Gojo says cheerfully. “That’s what worries me.”
Yuuji follows Megumi down the hallway, heart still buzzing, head full of things he didn’t know before.
Megumi closes the bedroom door behind them and drops his bag by the desk like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“You can sit,” Megumi says, already kneeling on the floor and pulling out his notebook.
“Right. Yeah.” Yuuji drops down across from him, their knees almost touching.
They open their notebooks at the same time. For a few seconds, it feels serious. Like they might actually accomplish something.
“Okay,” Yuuji says, staring at the worksheet. “So this part is easy. Probably.”
Megumi glances at him. “You haven’t read it yet.”
“I’m manifesting confidence.”
“That’s not how chemistry works.”
Yuuji laughs, then tries to focus while Megumi explains something about reactions and measurements. He listens. He really does. But halfway through, he realizes he’s watching the way Megumi’s mouth moves instead of the page.
“You’re not paying attention,” Megumi says without looking up.
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
Yuuji sighs. “Okay, maybe not.”
Megumi sets his pencil down. “What 's wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Yuuji shrugs, then scratches the back of his neck. “You’re just… distracting.”
Megumi blinks. “How come?”
Megumi looks down at the paper again, but he doesn’t pick the pencil back up. “You’re bad at this.”
“At chemistry?”
“Pretending.”
Yuuji laughs softly. “Yeah. I know.”
They try again. It lasts maybe three minutes.
“Do you ever get tired,” Yuuji blurts out, “of being good at everything?”
Megumi frowns slightly. “I’m not good at everything.”
“You kind of are.”
“That’s not true.”
Yuuji leans back on his hands. “You’re captain. You’re top of the class. You help everyone. You act like it’s nothing.”
Megumi’s jaw tightens just slightly. “It’s not nothing.”
“I know,” Yuuji says quickly. “That’s what I mean.”
Megumi exhales and leans back too, his shoulder brushing Yuuji’s. Neither of them moves away.
“I don’t do it because I want to be good,” Megumi says after a moment. “I just… don’t like things falling apart.”
“Sometimes.” Yuuji swallows. “You don’t have to hold everything together alone.”
Megumi lets out a quiet, almost disbelieving huff. “You make it sound simple.”
“It kind of is,” Yuuji says. “You let people in.”
Megumi looks at him then. “And if they leave?”
Yuuji doesn’t hesitate. “Then it still mattered.”
The room feels smaller after that, closer.
Yuuji doesn’t realize how near they are until he shifts and their knees press fully together this time. Neither of them pulls back.
Megumi’s voice is softer when he speaks again. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Good or bad.”
“Different.”
Yuuji smiles faintly. “You either.”
Megumi’s hand moves without warning, fingers brushing lightly against Yuuji’s wrist where it rests on the floor. Yuuji’s breath catches.
“Is this okay?” he asks quietly.
Megumi nods once.
The space between them changes. Yuuji shifts closer, Slow enough that Megumi could stop him.
He doesn’t.
Their foreheads nearly bump when Yuuji leans in too quickly.
“Sorry,” Yuuji whispers, laughing nervously.
Megumi’s lips twitch. “You’re impatient.”
“Maybe.”
Megumi inhales slowly, like he’s steadying himself. “I’ve never… done this before.”
Yuuji’s heart stumbles. “Me neither.”
That confession hangs between them and then Megumi closes the distance.
It’s awkward. Soft. Their lips press together uncertainly, barely aligned at first. Yuuji forgets what he’s supposed to do and ends up gripping the front of Megumi’s hoodie instead of anything graceful.
Megumi makes a small startled sound against his mouth, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and tries again, slower this time.
It’s still messy. A little clumsy. Their noses bump. Yuuji almost laughs into it, but the feeling of Megumi’s hand sliding up to his sleeve steadies him.
Yuuji feels it everywhere. In his chest. In his hands. In the way his stomach flips. When they finally pull apart, it’s because they both run out of breath at the same time.
Megumi’s cheeks are flushed.
“So,” Yuuji says softly.
Megumi huffs a breath that might be a laugh. “We’re really bad at studying.”
Yuuji grins. “Yeah.”
Neither of them moves away, and the chemistry project lies forgotten on the floor.
The chemistry project ends up being fine.
They present it together on a Thursday morning, standing side by side in front of the class while Yuuji does most of the talking and Megumi corrects him under his breath when he mixes up terms. At one point their hands brush when they both reach for the same paper and neither of them reacts, but Yuuji feels it all the way down to his toes.
Practice that afternoon feels different in the smallest ways. When Megumi sets the ball, Yuuji swears it lands perfectly every time. When Yuuji scores, Megumi’s quiet “nice” sounds warmer than usual.
Hakari notices, of course.
“You look insufferable,” he tells Yuuji during a water break.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Yuuji replies, grinning so wide it hurts.
Across the gym, Megumi pretends not to hear any of it.
Later, when the sun starts dipping low and most of the team has left, Yuuji stays behind to help stack the last cart of volleyballs. Megumi lingers too, even though he usually leaves on time. They walk out of the gym together without discussing it. The air outside is cool, the sky streaked pink and gold.
Their steps fall into rhythm like they always do. “So,” Yuuji says after a moment. “Are we going to pretend that didn’t happen.”
Megumi keeps his eyes forward. “No.”
Relief floods Yuuji so fast he almost laughs. “Okay. Good.”
They reach the gate near the front of the school and Megumi slows.
“I don’t really know what this is supposed to look like,” he admits quietly.
“It doesn’t have to look like anything,” he says. “We can just… figure it out.”
Megumi glances at him, searching his face like he’s checking for doubt.
He doesn’t find any.
“…okay,” Megumi says and Yuuji smiles.
As they start walking again, their hands brush.
This time, Megumi doesn’t hesitate and he laces their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world, even though his ears are turning red.
Yuuji looks down at their hands, then up at him. “You’re bold today.”
“Don’t make it weird,” Megumi mutters.
“I won’t.” Yuuji is grinning as if he won the lottery.
They walk like that for a while. At the corner where they usually part ways, they stop.
“See you tomorrow,” Yuuji says.
“Yeah,” Megumi replies.
Neither of them moves immediately. Yuuji leans in first this time, slower now, more certain. The kiss is softer than the first.
When they pull apart, Megumi’s expression is calmer than it used to be. Yuuji thinks, not for the first time, that meeting him was the best accident of his life.
“Get home safe,” Megumi says.
“You too.”
They walk in opposite directions, but Yuuji doesn’t feel like he’s leaving something behind. It feels like they’re both heading toward something instead.
And that’s enough.