Chapter Text
9:00 A.M. - July 25, 2006
Itadori Yuuji is many things—absentminded, sure; reckless, absolutely. But one thing he almost never is and has never been, is early. Especially not to a shift, and especially not in the summer. But here he is, lounging on the couch of Black Flash Records's break room with his skateboard rolling from side to side beneath his sneakers, an hour before his shift is due to begin.
He has to admit it isn't the most comfortable set-up—he'd much prefer to leave the skateboard elsewhere rather than potentially ruining the sanctity of its fragile wheels by rolling it against the brightly carpeted floor, but he isn't willing to chance it getting snatched by either some fortunate stranger or even one of his co-workers. He scoffs at the mental image of one of them trying to hit an ollie with his board and falling flat on their face in the process. It's more likely than you'd think, since half of the co-workers in question hold close to zero regard for other people's belongings.
I'm talking about you, Inumaki and Panda, Yuuji rolls his eyes.
While being an unlikely outcome, still better to be safe than sorry, and this skateboard is one of Yuuji's most prized possessions—aside from his Nintendo DS, that is, the buttons of which he's currently making quick work of as he smashes them repeatedly in a hasty effort to win the round of Shrine 2 that he's been stuck on for days, not that he'd admit that. Especially not to Inumaki, who was currently beating him by about five levels and would never let Yuuji hear the end of it.
Yuuji tries to maintain his focus as he hears the main door to the break room all but slam open with an air of aggression that could only belong to one Kugisaki Nobara. Sure enough, the girl herself enters Yuuji's peripheral vision soon after the door shuts behind her, her notable auburn bob swaying behind her as she tosses her red messenger bad onto the cushion next to him.
He chances an upwards glance at his friend, silently praying that this isn't one of those terrifying mornings where she seems filled to the brim with unbridled rage towards anything and everything that dares to make contact with her. Yuuji will never understand how she's able to achieve that sort of heightened emotion at nine in the morning, but he guesses that's just Kugisaki for you.
Kugisaki seemingly hasn't noticed his presence yet, too busy typing away at her bright pink cell phone at a speed that could rival a bullet train to meet his gaze. Yuuji considers piping up a greeting as he listens to her beaded charm jangle with every character she types. He doesn't have to consider for long because after a moment, Kugisaki glances up from her screen and yelps when she sees Yuuji staring back at her, nearly jumping a whole meter in the air.
"Jeez, Itadori," she splutters out once she regains her footing, "you scared the shit out of me, you creep! How long have you been staring at me for?" she demands, pointing an accusatory finger at Yuuji.
The boy raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry Kugisaki, I didn't mean to scare you like that," Yuuji gives her an apologetic grin. Kugisaki responds with a biting look that makes Yuuji think she intends to slap it off his face.
Maybe it really is one of those mornings. God, he really hopes it isn't one of those mornings.
Instead of doing that, she scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Don't apologize, moron." She pockets her phone before crossing her arms expectantly. "What are you doing down here so early, anyway? Our shift doesn't start for another hour, and you, like, never show up on time. Ever."
Yuuji ignores the truth of her comment, instead leaning forward conspiratorially as if about to share some huge secret. "Listen, Kugisaki—my life has reached its pinnacle, alright?" Kugisaki doubtfully raises an eyebrow, but Yuuji continues. "Today is the day I finally convince Gojo to let me flip the sign on the door when we open!" Yuuji ends his proclamation with a flourish, a wide grin painted across his face.
Kugisaki doesn't seem at all impressed, her mouth drawn into a line. "Biiig responsibility, Itadori," she nods sarcastically, "you sure you can handle it?" She lightly snickers before she pulls her phone back out and returns to madly typing. "I mean, I'm sure if you just ask he'll let you. He really doesn't care about that kind of stuff...or anything, for that matter."
Yuuji stares at her for a moment, wondering who the hell she's texting anyway. He clears his throat, "Well, it's the principle of it that counts, y'know?"
Kugisaki looks back up at him blankly. "...Okay, whatever you say, idiot." She turns on her heel and swivels away from Yuuji, moving towards the door. "I'm gonna start getting ready to open, which you should probably be doing too instead of..." She trails off, gesturing vaguely at Yuuji's console before continuing, "playing Shrine or whatever."
Yuuji scoffs, waving the console in the air. "I'll have you know I'm actually playing Shrine 2, and I'm winning, so beat that!" he shouts after her. Kugisaki grabs a piece of candy from Gojo's jar specifically labeled DO NOT EAT before rolling her eyes at Yuuji and shutting the door in his face.
Yuuji sighs and leans back against the soft fabric of the pillows behind him. He looks back down at his console only to be met with a blaring red YOU LOST screen.
"Dammit!" He doesn't even try to resist the urge to throw his console in frustration, wincing as he watches it fly into Gojo's office and thump against the carpeted floor.
He kicks his skateboard out from underneath him and rises to his feet, retracing the path of his poor, discarded DS.
He thanks any deity listening that no significant damage had been done to one of his most prized possessions aside from a small and insignificant crack across the back of it. As he straightens up, Yuuji's back bumps against the drawers in Gojo's desk.
He slowly turns his head to face the drawers, and the curiosity that overtakes him feels almost palpable. Yuuji has to admit he's always wondered what kind of stuff Gojo keeps amongst his possessions—or his 'piles of junk,' as Fushiguro refers to them—but always showing up to his shifts late meant never getting a chance to be alone in the man's office. Like, completely and totally alone, with nobody at all to stop him from...you know, maybe snooping around a little. It couldn't hurt, could it?
Yuuji doesn't think twice before pulling himself to his feet, pocketing his console and flopping into Gojo's fancy-looking swivel chair. He sighs contentedly, relishing in the position of lounging behind the desk rather than standing awkwardly in front of it as he receives what usually ends up being either a halfhearted lecture or a command for him to bring Gojo sweets from the konbini.
Yuuji turns his attention to the mahogany drawers that line either side of the desk. He first opens the top center one, carefully pulling on the knob as if afraid of it breaking off somehow—he often fails to recognize his own strength, and he does tend to maybe, occasionally, accidentally break things without meaning to, but that's neither here nor there.
The first thing he's met with is a thin manila folder, filled sparingly with only a few sheets of paper. Yuuji reads the only line of text visible over the folder's beige cover: Limitless Music Franchise Option Agreement.
He squints at the words, blinking hard a few times for good measure, as if doing either of those things would make the meaning of the words any more clear to him.
"The hell does this even mean," he mutters aloud, taking advantage of the empty space around him. He decides opening the folder can't hurt—hell, he's already gone this far in his prying, why not go all the way, right?
He scans the crowded lines of text that fill the page, the black-on-white contrast planting a sharp ache behind his eyes. He's only really able to catch a few phrases—sale, acquiring entity, merger, closing payment—before he screws his eyes shut, rubbing away the sudden onset of dryness.
Either way, he's able to decipher the general overview of the document: an acquisition of Black Flash Records by the major chain Limitless Music.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
The last thing Fushiguro Megumi wanted to spend his summer doing was working at a record store, especially one managed by Gojo—but when your legal guardian threatens to start managing a record store, and then proceeds to threaten to take away your college fund if you don't take up his employment offer, you sort of don't have a choice in the matter.
Which is how he finds himself standing in front of that very record store a month later beside Okkotsu Yuuta, the two boys staring down at a figure sleeping atop a sleek motorcycle. The man is snoring obnoxiously, and Megumi has to refrain from sneering at him as he tugs his headphones down to rest around his neck. Okkotsu glances doubtfully at Megumi and then shifts his gaze to the biker as if to ask, Should I wake him up? He is blocking the back entrance, after all.
In the end, neither of them has to do anything. The man slowly lifts his head, groaning as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Naturally, the man turns out to be none other than Hakari Kinji, the upperclassman that Megumi likely respects the least, which was definitely saying something by his standards.
Hakari's missing his usual right-hand woman, which honestly surprises Megumi considering their usual state of being practically joined at the hip, with Kirara always finding a way to throw her arms around Hakari's neck or hook an arm around his or poke at his chest or whatever new and unheard of form of PDA they'd crafted for the day. Hakari seems equally confused by her absence, drowsily glancing from left to right before he seems to finally take notice of the two boys standing before him.
"'Sup," is all he grunts in greeting. He shakes his limbs awake and assumes a proper riding position—or, at least, what Megumi assumes is a proper riding position, but he doesn't think anything involving Hakari is really ever proper at all—grabbing the handles with a white-knuckled grip.
Okkotsu tilts his head and makes no effort to move aside for the biker. "Um, Hakari-senpai...what are you doing?"
Hakari glares up at Okkotsu as if he'd just asked the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard. "...Leaving, what's it look like? And don't call me that, man, how many times..." He exhales as he adjusts his grip on the handles. "Look, ah, I went to the casino last night."
Yeah, and I found a fork in the kitchen this morning, Megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Win anything?" he asks instead with a begrudging curiosity.
Hakari barks out a laugh. "No," he grunts shortly, revving up his bike. Megumi and Okkotsu take the rumbling of the vehicle's engine as a signal to move the hell out of the way. "I'd say it was nice knowing you guys, but...eh, you two are kinda lame." With that, he turns out of the alley lining the side of the store and joins the traffic of the Tokyo street.
"Hey, what happened, man?" Okkotsu calls after him. "How much?!" His shouts go unanswered, and his shoulders slump as he sighs.
Megumi furrows his brows in confusion, turning to Okkotsu. "What do you mean, 'how much?' Why're you asking anyway, it's his loss if he wants to gamble away his life savings," he mutters, running an idle hand through his unkempt hair.
Okkotsu only shakes his head. "It wouldn't be his life savings—he doesn't have any, he's got no money."
Now it's Megumi's turn to tilt his head, his features scrunching up. "So, whose then?"
Okkotsu lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck. "Gojo let him close up shop last night, and he keeps his money in his office..." He trails off, letting Megumi fill in the blanks.
"Oh, shit."
Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, his mind continuously returning back to the documents he discovered in Gojo's desk.
Should I tell the others?...I mean, that would be an invasion of Gojo's privacy, wouldn't it? But I already did the invading, so would it still count? And anyway, I don't even know if this whole thing is set in stone anyway—maybe it's just an offer Gojo got and he intends to turn it down? Jeez, I mean there's—
"Hey, you good back there?"
Yuuji lifts his head from where it had been resting against his knuckles, his eyes meeting the honey brown of Kugisaki's. She has the decency to look somewhat concerned for him, although she mostly seems unbothered as she organizes a collection of mismatched records.
Yuuji falters for a moment before flashing her a thumbs-up and a grin. "Yeah, all good!"
Kugisaki narrows her eyes at him but ultimately turns back around with a shrug. As soon as her penetrating gaze isn't focused on him anymore, Yuuji exhales and drops his head back into his upturned palm.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when one of the two phones near the register starts to incessantly ring, a blaring noise that instantly cuts through the thoughts bouncing around his mind. As if that wasn't enough noise pollution, the ringing of the phone is joined by the ding of the front door's bell.
Gojo looks more stressed than Yuuji thinks he's ever seen him, the man's typically easygoing expression overridden by creased brows and narrowed eyes. Yuuji fumbles for the phone, waving at Gojo as he does so. The man throws his signature smile over the lines of stress marring his face, quickly raising a stilted hand in greeting.
"Black Flash Records, Itadori speaking?"
"Hello, this is the Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi, we'd like to speak with Gojo Satoru."
Yuuji exhales before calling Gojo over, extending his arm out to the man. "It's for you. Bank," he clarifies. Gojo groans, adjusting his sunglasses—a questionable choice of eyewear considering the fact that they're indoors, but who was Yuuji to judge—before taking the phone off the boy's hands and putting it to his own ear.
Yuuji turns his head, not wanting to impede on Gojo's conversation after already having invaded his privacy earlier.
Well...a little eavesdropping wouldn't hurt—
Yuuji is startled for what must be the hundredth time that morning alone by the other phone behind the register ringing. He has to resist the urge to throw his arms over his ears and groan. He instead just picks up the receiver with a white-knuckled grip and a sigh.
"...Black Flash Records, Itadori speaking."
"Don't care, get Gojo on the phone now. I know he's there, no point in trying to—"
Yuuji recoils at the sheer volume of the caller—it's as if his voice has somehow managed to transcend the boundaries of telephone lines. He holds the phone a considerable distance from his face, wincing when the caller's stern remarks seem to evolve into borderline shouts. "Um, Gojo. It's, ah, for you," Yuuji stammers apologetically.
Gojo groans loudly, dramatically throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Listen, I'll call you back," he says into the receiver with thinly veiled exasperation. "Yes, I'll—yes, I'll send in the money, alright? I have it, I just—whatever, it's yours by tomorrow, cool? Cool." The man all but slams the receiver back on the hook. He pauses a moment before running his hand down his face and gesturing for Yuuji to hand him the phone.
After the boy does so, he pipes up, "Oh, and Gojo?"
"Hm?"
"Can, uh—can I flip the sign today?"
Gojo shrugs, his former exasperation seemingly having dissipated into thin air. "Sure, kid, knock yourself out."
Both corners of Yuuji's mouth stretch into a wide grin, and he pumps a fist into the air. "Yes!"
This isn't the first time Megumi's had to don a facade of nonchalance while lying to Gojo—or, you know. Lying by omission, but semantics. However, it is his first time doing so with an accomplice, especially one whose inexperience is blatantly shown on his face. For God's sake, Okkotsu's practically sweating bullets as he digs his blunt fingernails into the fabric of the couch and lets go over and over again. It takes all of Megumi's willpower to not snap at him to cut it out. He instead directs his energy towards acting as casual as possible, even going as far as to lounge more on the couch than he'd ever allow himself to in a normal scenario. He only hopes Gojo's inhuman observational skills will fail him today, if on any day.
The two boys have hardly spoken more than a few short words between them since they entered the break room, and Okkotsu is the first one to break the silence. "Jeez, is it, ah—is it hotter than usual in here?" He offers Megumi a sideways grin that comes off more like a grimace than anything.
Megumi narrows his eyes at the older boy, his nails digging into his jeans and betraying the guise of indifference he's trying to mask his anxiety with. "Gojo's gonna come in here any minute," he replies, ignoring Okkotsu's attempt at small talk. "He's gonna check his office, like he does every morning, and we have to act normal, like we do every morning. If he asks why you're sweating so damn much, you run hot, alright?" Okkotsu hesitates for a moment before slowly nodding.
Megumi's usually never this snappy with the upperclassman, and it feels uncharacteristic even as he says it. But you have to do what you have to do, and Megumi has to convince Gojo that in the instance that all the money in his office is potentially gone, then he and Okkotsu knew nothing of it.
To be entirely honest, Megumi isn't really sure what the big deal is about this money in the first place. Gojo's completely loaded, always has been and always will be, and one unfortunate trip to the casino on Hakari's part wouldn't change that. But he figures there must be something else at play here, if Okkotsu's behavior is any tell, so.
Gojo's always had a knack for appearing whenever he's mentioned or so much as thought of, and that pattern hasn't ceased today. The two boys stiffen simultaneously as Gojo steps foot inside the break room, raising a hand in greeting. "Hiya Megumi, Yuuta-kun—um, you doing alright kid?" The latter part is directed towards Okkotsu, who has tensed up to the point where he's started to twitch.
Sweating and twitching...I mean, hell, for all Gojo knows this kid could be on crack, Megumi sighs. He doesn't know what's wrong with the older boy—Megumi doesn't think he's ever seen him this anxious before, and that was saying something. It's not like this whole situation is their fault, so he doesn't really understand why this of all things has Okkotsu acting like this. To be fair, Megumi's never known him to be much of a liar in all the time they've known each other, so he supposes that lines up.
Okkotsu nods hurriedly, a tight smile plastered onto his face. "Yep, everything's great, Gojo!"
Gojo knits his brows together in suspicion, looking sideways at Megumi as if to silently ask for confirmation.
"Yeah, everything's fine," the boy reasons, attempting to loosen the grip of his fingers from his own pant legs. "Okkotsu's just...stressed about school and stuff. And, ah, you know he tends to run hot, right?" He directs the last statement to the boy in question, who stiffly nods again.
Gojo's suspicious expression doesn't let up. "...It's summer break?" The end of his sentence lifts like he's asking a question, but Megumi doesn't humor him with an answer, only responding with a shrug. Gojo's eyes narrow behind his opaque lenses, but he decides to stop torturing the boys and leaves them in favor of entering his office.
Okkotsu exhales so deeply that Megumi's forced to believe he must've been holding his breath during that entire several-minute-long encounter. Megumi throws his head backwards to rest on the top of the couch, tossing his forearms over his face.
We're not out of the woods yet. Gojo's gonna check his desk like he does every morning, he's gonna see the lack of money, and he's gonna come back in here and—
"Fushiguro!"
Megumi snaps to attention, preparing for the worst but instead being met with Itadori's smiling face. He exhales like he's releasing his entire life force and all but slumps over ragdoll-style in a half hearted attempt to free his body from the tension it's been riddled with since he entered the building. It hardly works—unfortunately for Megumi, his body is practically a ball of tension twenty-four-seven, no matter what he tries to do about it.
Itadori's bright expression shifts into one of concern as his eyes dart between Megumi and Okkotsu, both of them likely appearing to be on opposite sides of the stressed-the-fuck-out spectrum. "Uhh, are you guys...okay? You don't look too hot."
Megumi opens his mouth in preparation for a sarcastic retort, but a loud BAM from Gojo's office followed by a frustrated shout does the answering for him.
Well. Guess he checked his desk.
Itadori stares at the man as he leaves his office with clenched fists and a tight, closed mouth smile. "Would you guys happen to know where the hell my money is?" Gojo asks with a saccharine tone that can only mean trouble. The man can be far too bubbly for his own good at times—at most times, if Megumi's being honest—but this sickly-sweet tone of his was one he only put on when he was royally pissed off.
Megumi did not want to be around Gojo when he was royally pissed off. He'd managed to avoid the man's rare temper for nearly ten years now, and he wasn't keen on finding out about it today.
Itadori raises his eyebrows, seemingly just as cautious as Megumi to avoid getting on Gojo's bad side. "Um, what money?"
"Don't know about any money," Okkotsu mutters, his terrible posture somehow getting worse as he tries to make himself smaller. Megumi remains silent, not wanting to inadvertently dig them into an even deeper hole.
Thankfully, Gojo avoids him and Itadori, instead honing in on Okkotsu. "Yuuta-kun," Gojo starts, prompting a muffled hm? from the boy in question. "I know you know something about this, but I'm going to trust that you aren't responsible because you're a good kid, alright? Now, care to tell me who is responsible?"
Being borderline interrogated by Gojo would make even someone with the strongest resolve falter, and Okkotsu is no exception. The bottom half of his face is covered by his hand when he mumbles out a nearly inaudible answer. Megumi catches Itadori glancing at him questioningly in his peripherals, but he trains his eyes forward and tries to make himself as invisible as possible.
"What was that?" Gojo asks Okkotsu.
If Megumi hadn't already known the identity of the culprit, he wouldn't have been able to parse out the syllables of Hakari's name from Okkotsu's practically whispered response. The same can't be said for Gojo, however, who seems to have heard the boy perfectly and is now muttering to himself inaudibly with his hands on his hips.
"Dammit, he was my closer...dammit!" Gojo grits his teeth and kicks the leg of the coffee table, nearly sending it toppling over with the pure force of his irritation.
"I'm gonna find that little gambling addict, mark my damn words, he won't get away so fast this time..." His voice trails off as he slams the main door open and just—up and leaves, just like that. Megumi stares at the now closed door in what he thinks can only be described as pure bewilderment.
The three boys remain in silence for a few moments before it's broken by Okkotsu, seemingly having finally found his voice again. "Uh, can he just...leave like that? We're opening soon," he says to nobody in particular.
The boys apparently aren't alone in their confusion—Kugisaki and Maki reopen the door soon after, flashing mystified glances at the main store behind them as they enter the break room. "The hell was that?" Maki demands, looking between each of the boys as if trying to determine who was at fault for Gojo's outburst. "Why did our manager just storm out half an hour before we're meant to open up?"
Itadori shrugs. "Beats me."
Okkotsu sighs, seemingly resigning himself to being the storyteller for today. "Hakari-senpai gambled away Gojo's money last night, or something," he explains hesitantly. "Now he and Kirara have flaked and he's...pissed."
"You could say that again," Megumi mutters under his breath. He's not sure if he's ever seen Gojo that pissed in his entire decade of guardianship, and he wasn't exactly sure what the appropriate response was to the situation.
"Damn," Maki raises her eyebrows in surprise, resting a hand on her hip. "I just thought they were too busy sucking face again to come in on time," she remarks. She then turns her attention to Megumi, tilting her head as she glares at him. "Hey Megumi, what are you doing here anyway? Your shift doesn't start till this afternoon."
Megumi gives her a noncommittal shrug. "It's Takada Day—you guys are gonna need all the help you can get, trust me."
The others glance at each other apprehensively. Before any of them can respond, the break room door slams open for what must be the twentieth time in the last ten minutes, albeit somewhat more politely this time.
Nanami looks around the room with an exasperated sigh. Megumi thinks that might be Nanami's favorite sound to make if the frequency at which the man makes it means anything. "Where did that idiot head off to now?"
Maki sighs—hers could rival Nanami's in the amount of pure exasperation they're able to fit inside the one gesture. "God knows," she remarks.
Megumi doesn't realize Itadori has taken a seat next to him until the boy's leg lightly brushes against his. Megumi flinches without even meaning to, the single brush of contact, the transfer of body heat, igniting something akin to fireworks in his chest.
Thankfully, Itadori seemingly doesn't even notice Megumi's slight recoil at the touch, simply relaxing into his seat on the couch. "Damn, I come early one time and now Gojo's losing his freaking mind!" the pink haired boy laughs, ignoring whatever conversation the others are now having in favor of chatting with Megumi. He can't say Itadori's the only one guilty of tuning out their conversation—Megumi himself is sort of too busy examining how the different shades of brown in Itadori's eyes shift with each expression he makes to pay attention to whatever Kugisaki's shouting about this time.
"And then there was that weird scratching I heard outside that I should probably check out later, and not to mention the for—" Itadori clamps his mouth shut as if a switch had suddenly flipped in his head.
Megumi blinks, his focus shifting from Itadori's features to the boy himself as he knits his brows quizzically. "The what?"
Itadori's eyes widen as if he's been caught red-handed. "Um, the, uh—"
"God, has hell frozen over or something?" Maki's biting tone cuts off whatever excuse Itadori was about to make, to his visible relief. "Why is everyone here so early?"
Megumi's gaze snaps away from Itadori's face, shifting his attention into trying to parse out who the newest intruder is this time.
A telltale deep voice answers his question. "C'mon, Maki," Panda says, "It's Takada Day! Wouldn't miss it for the world." The boy then snickers, turning sideways to fist bump an ever-silent Inumaki.
"Alright, enough fooling around back here," Nanami announces, his voice seeming to echo against the walls. "We have 20 minutes until we open, and despite the absence of...a certain head manager, we should still prioritize cleaning up around here. Everyone...do the jobs that you were hired to do, please." Nanami runs a hand down his face, the action riddled with exasperation.
The teens glance at each other silently as the co-manager retreats into his office, silently daring each other to be the first to start working.
Megumi decides to be the one to make a move before the awkwardness can devolve any further, lightly tapping Itadori's shoulder as he rises to his feet. The boy looks up at him, his mouth forming an 'o'.
"C'mon, let's go," Megumi beckons. Itadori nods and follows him out, the rest of the kids following shortly after.
"Okay, the color is..." Kugisaki digs around in her konpeito bag as the rest of them wait with bated breath to see whose color hers will match. Well, other than Fushiguro and Maki, who are sporting twin looks of disinterest as they roll their candies between their fingers.
"Pink!" Kugisaki holds up her pick, presenting it to the others. Yuuji internally groans as Inumaki makes a victorious noise, pumping a fist in the air. Yuuji hasn't won aux privileges in what feels like forever, which he finds entirely unfair since he totally has the best music taste between all of his co-workers, without a doubt.
But, alas, Inumaki is still the one to step up to the stereo connected to the store's speaker system. Yuuji tosses his konpeito into his mouth as Inumaki pops open the CD player to insert his new 'mystery mix', as he so eloquently titles them. Yuuji dreads every day that either he or Panda ends up on aux, knowing as soon as either of them presses play on the stereo, some new unheard of musical monstrosity will start blasting from the speakers and their musical ancestors from thousands of years ago will shed a tear in their graves.
Sure enough, this morning is no exception, Yuuji laments as hardcore death metal begins to scrape past his eardrums. He can hardly resist the urge to cover his ears as the toneless, screeching guitars blast through the sound system, instead hanging his head and pinching his eyes closed as if losing one sense will dull the others.
"Nuh uh, no freaking way are we listening to this," Kugisaki practically shouts to be heard over the grating music—can it even be called that at this point, Yuuji wonders. She storms past the moshing duo of Inumaki and Panda to reach the stereo, the two of them narrowly dodging a customary swatting to the head, before immediately ejecting the disk and tossing it onto the counter. "Veto!"
Inumaki hurriedly reaches out to catch it before it can slide onto the floor, exhaling with relief when he manages to reach it in time. Okkotsu laughs at his friend lightheartedly as he places his own, relatively mellower CD into the deck and slides it shut.
"How many seconds was that?" Panda asks Inumaki.
The latter holds up all ten fingers. "New record," he says, and Yuuji thinks those are probably his first and last words of the day.
"Are you sure you wanna use your veto now, Kugisaki?" Panda asks the girl, now leaning with her elbows against the counter as she watches the duo's antics with a reproachful glare. "I mean, it's only ten in the morning."
"Actually, for your information, it's 9:50," Kugisaki holds out her wristwatch for proof. "And look, listening to slop like that is bound to doom you to virginity for the rest of your sorry lives."
Inumaki and Panda's subsequent complaints are drowned out by Okkotsu's music as it increases in volume. It's a song that Yuuji likes, but one that he doesn't know the title of or lyrics to on account of them all being in English, a language in which his understanding leaves much to be desired.
Even resident semi-fluent English speaker Fushiguro is basically mumbling his way through, only enunciating every other word as Yuuji and Kugisaki sing gibberish in place of the real lyrics. Yuuji doesn't care, though—Fushiguro is just effortlessly cool no matter what he does anyway.
Kugisaki raises the handle of her broom to her mouth, using the base of it as a microphone as she passionately shouts made-up lyrics into it. Yuuji laughs at the sight, abandoning the records he's organizing to join her with an air guitar, dramatically swinging his arm around to mimic strumming a chord.
Would it be crazy for him to start a band? Not some silly, made-up thing like what he and Kugisaki do during clean-ups, but a legit, no-nonsense band. Like, with instruments.
Yuuji already has a guitar, a scrappy hand-me-down from his older brother, Choso. Its strings may be close to snapping every time he plays it and it may fall out of tune if he plays it for too long, but still. It's something, and he can't help hoping an endeavor like that would be as fun as this, fooling around with his friends to the backdrop of awesome music.
He could totally ask Fushiguro and Kugisaki to get in on this, right? Even if they don't have instruments, Kugisaki could be the singer, or something. She screams at him enough for it to be a feasible possibility.
And Fushiguro, well. Maybe he has something. Or maybe not, but that doesn't matter. Yuuji will figure something out eventually like he usually does.
Yuuji's fake guitar solo is cut off by a sharp flick to his temple, followed by Fushiguro suddenly materializing beside him. Yuuji reels back and slaps a hand to the afflicted area, staring at the dark haired boy accusingly. "Ow, man, the hell was that for?" he whines, glaring at Kugisaki, who has the nerve to laugh at him.
Fushiguro narrows his eyes at them. "C'mon, I need your help over here," he jerks his head towards his abandoned broom, an extra one against the wall beside it.
Yuuji nods—maybe a little too enthusiastically, but who would pay it any mind? "Okay, Fushiguro!" He flashes an 'ok' sign at the other boy, who just scoffs lightly before walking away, Yuuji following close behind.
He chooses to ignore Kugisaki's not-at-all-subtle snickering from behind him as he goes.