Archive of Our Own

The night had long settled into that quiet, heavy stillness Tokyo sometimes carried when even the hum of traffic seemed to soften, like the city itself was holding its breath. Fushiguro kept his hands buried deep in his pockets as he walked, shoulders slightly hunched, dark hair shadowing his eyes.
The streetlights stretched thin, intermittent pools of amber light, leaving long breaks of darkness between them. He timed his steps unconsciously, moving from one lit patch to the next, boots scuffing softly against the pavement.
He had just been a long mission. Too long, it made his entire body ache, he had gotten too carried away, and burned right through his cursed energy. Yuji had gotten too carried away with the mission, an unfortunately Megumi had to step in, causing his drained demeanor.
Letting his temper get the better of him, Megumi stormed off and headed back to the dorms on his own. He felt a little bad leaving Yuji behind, but whatever, Yuji was perfectly capable of defending himself.
His cursed energy was still uneven, flickering beneath his skin, but that wasn’t what made his jaw tighten. It was the lingering, uncomfortable awareness in his own body, subtle, but persistent. A warmth in his chest that didn’t belong there. A sharpness to every sound, every scent drifting through the night air.
Megumi clicked his tongue.
“Annoying,” he muttered to himself, because he knew exactly what it was. Cycles had never cared about timing. Always inconvenient, yet Megumi knew they’d never go away, he wished every month that they’d just disappear entirely, wiped off the face of the earth.
A faint breeze slipped down the narrow street, brushing against his uniform and carrying with it layered scents, concrete, distant rain, something faintly metallic. And beneath it all, something sweeter, sharper. It made his shoulders stiffen. This could not be happening right now, especially not right now.
His grip on his sleeves tightened, trying to focus on his cursed energy in case of emergency. “Focus,” he told himself under his breath, his heat was messing with his thoughts, making them semi- incoherent. He had a habit during his heats, being extra cautious, he needed to be.
The street was empty, but that didn’t mean safe. Not for someone like him, not like this. His gaze flicked to every alleyway, every shadow that seemed a little too deep. His shikigami simmered at the edge of manifestation, ready if he needed them. Who should he summon if someone really did come? The Divine Dogs?, Nue?, Toad?, Max Elephant?, Rabbit Escape?
As he pondered the options, a tension curled low in his stomach, something instinctive and irritating. Megumi prided himself on control. On precision. On never letting something as inconvenient as instinct dictate his movements.And yet, His step faltered for half a second.

The scent again.

Stronger this time, carried on the wind like a whisper that brushed too close to his skin. He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself to keep walking. “It’s nothing,” he said, quieter now, trying to convince himself. But his senses disagreed.

Every flicker of movement seemed louder. The distant clatter of a bike somewhere down the block made his head turn sharply. A stray cat darting across the street sent a spike of alertness through him before he could stop it. Megumi pressed his lips into a thin line.

He hated this.

Hated the way his body betrayed him, how it sharpened him in the wrong ways, made him feel exposed even when no one was around. It wasn’t weakness; he refused to call it that. But it was inconvenient. A variable he couldn’t entirely control. That was enough to irritate him, he couldn’t keep taking this risks, especially not now, especially not when his heat was arising.

He turned a corner, stepping into an even dimmer stretch of road. Fewer lights. Fewer buildings with windows lit. The kind of place most people would avoid this late at night. Perfect for getting home without dealing with anyone. …Or so he thought.

Megumi stopped, not abruptly, but just enough that his next step didn’t follow through, hovering slightly over the ground. There it was again. Not a random scent this time. Not background noise. It was intentional, present. His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the darkness ahead.

He couldn’t see anyone, at the moment.

But he knew, the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

A low, almost imperceptible shift in the air told him he wasn’t alone. His cursed energy gathered instinctively, coiling tighter around him. Not enough to fully summon anything, but enough that he could react in an instant.

“Who’s there?” he called out, voice calm, flat.

Silence answered him.

Megumi didn’t move.

A second stretched. Then another. And then, . . . Footsteps.

The soft aura finally becoming familiar. His shoulders loosened a fraction before he could stop himself.

“…You’re loud,” Megumi said, quieter now, though he hadn’t turned around yet. A brief pause, loomed over the air, Then a voice he’d recognize anywhere, even buried under a hundred layers of noise.

“When I want to be” Itadori huffed out, slight smile on his face.

Megumi exhaled, tension draining just enough to make the rest of the walk bearable. He finally turned, eyes landing on Itadori, hands casually stuffed in his hoodie, expression bright even under the dim streetlight. There was something grounding about his presence, annoyingly so. Naturally an alpha would have that effect over an omega, but Yujii was different, he didn’t pressure it onto Megumi, he actually held back over his pheromones. Out of respect for Megumi, but even then, they were still quite strong.

“…Why are you here?” Megumi asked, slowly becoming irritated due to his arising heat.

Itadori shrugged like it was obvious. “You were taking forever. Figured I’d come find you.” Megumi frowned faintly. “I wasn’t—” He cut himself off. Because now that Itadori was closer, the air shifted again. A large waft of Yuji’s pheromones lingered in the air again, not sharp. Not overwhelming. But warm. Steady.

Megumi’s breath caught for the briefest moment before he looked away.

“…You shouldn’t be wandering around this late,” he said instead, tone a little more clipped than usual. Itadori blinked, smiling warmly, as he always did when he looked at Megumi “I could say the same to you.” Yuji argued back.

“That’s different.”, Megumi pouted, beginning to walk again, right past Yuji

“How?” Inquiring Megumi, as he always, did. But it was never disrespectful, always coming from a place of pure curiosity, laced with a bit of concern.

Megumi didn’t answer, pausing his steps, mostly due to the fact that he didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to acknowledge the exact reason why tonight felt different, why the quiet wasn’t just quiet, why every instinct felt too close to the surface. That his stupid, stupid, heat was arising. Instead, he started walking again.

After a second, Itadori fell into step beside him, easily keeping up pace, actually slowing down his usual pace to stay near Megumi. For a while, neither of them spoke, but the space between them felt… different, gradually becoming closer. Megumi could feel it, could feel him, steady and solid at his side, anchoring him in a way he refused to put into words.

“…Hey,” Itadori said after a bit, glancing over. “You okay?”

Megumi didn’t look back. Nervous and almost sure that Yuji had noticed by now. “… I’m fine.” he mumbled under his breath, voice uneven. A lie, Yuji may have been slightly dense, but even he could tell that. However he didn’t push any further, Yuji never did. Never used his ‘Alpha’ authority to push past boundaries.

“Okay,” Itadori said anyway, easy as ever. Megumi liked that about him.

And just like that, the tension didn’t disappear, but it eased. Just enough for Megumi to breathe a little easier as they walked. The night didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Not with someone beside him. A special someone, Megumi hated to admit.

The street didn’t feel as suffocating once Itadori fell into step beside him, it should’ve, it definitely should’ve. Megumi knows that. An alpha should mean unpredictability. Noise. Variables he can’t fully control.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to separate from Yuji. “…You’re walking weird,” Itadori says after a minute, tilting his head slightly as he looks over. It was true, Megumi had a slight limp and was hunched over, as if he was bracing himself for some unforeseen event. Megumi’s grip tightened in his pockets. “I always walk like this.”, trying to gaslight Yuji, failing horribly.

“No, you don’t.” Yuji said unwavering, he was always caring about Megumi.

“I do.” Megumi lied again, voice cracking slightly, making Yuji squint his eyes in suspicion.

“It’s more stabby today,” Itadori adds, very seriously.

Megumi exhaled sharply through his nose. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does. You’re like—” Itadori gestures vaguely, mimicking stiff, purposeful steps. “Extra murder-y.”

“…I’m always ‘murder-y.’” Megumi argued again, this was partially true, he’d always been grumpy, but this was something different, Yuji thought.

“Yeah, but this is, like, premium version.” Yuji reasoned more

Megumi shoots him a flat look. “Do you ever hear yourself?”

“Constantly. I’m great.” A smirk. was spread across his face.

Megumi looks away again, but something in his chest loosens, just slightly.

Annoying.

The quiet that follows isn’t as heavy now. It shifts, reshapes itself around the presence at his side. The sharp edges of the night dull just enough for him to notice. Which, in itself, is distracting. Because now, instead of focusing purely on their surroundings, his awareness keeps drifting.

Back to Itadori.

To the steady rhythm of his footsteps, matching Megumi’s without trying. To the warmth he seems to carry with him, not literal, but something close enough that Megumi’s senses latch onto it anyway.

It’s… grounding. Megumi frowns faintly. He doesn’t like that word. Doesn’t like what it implies.

“…Why did you actually come out here?” Megumi asks after a bit, voice quieter now, less edged. Itadori shrugs. “Told you. You were taking too long.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is.”

Megumi glances sideways at him. “You could’ve stayed at the dorms.”

“Yeah, but then you’d still be walking alone.”

The answer comes too easily. Too simply. Megumi looks forward again quickly, jaw tightening. “But I left you behind, aren't you angry with me?.” Itadori hums, like he’s considering that.

“…Maybe,” he says. “But I you know I don't hold grudges, not against you.” Yuji said awkwardly, a slight rose covering his cheeks.

Megumi doesn’t respond immediately.

Because there’s something about that, something frustratingly straightforward, that he doesn’t have a counter for. Not everything needs a reason for Itadori. Reliable, Megumi thought, gaze slipping back to Yuji for a bit. A breeze slips through the street again, lighter this time. It doesn’t hit as sharply as before. The overwhelming edge from earlier has dulled, like someone turned down the intensity of the world.

Megumi notices.

Of course he does.

And he knows why.

His shoulders lower, just a fraction.

“…You didn’t have to,” he mutters.

Itadori glances at him. “I know.”

A beat.

“But I wanted to,” Yuji added. He'd always been so protective over Megumi, it annoyed him.

Megumi clicks his tongue softly, but it lacks bite.

They kept walking., The stretch of road is quieter than the rest, fewer lights, longer shadows stretching across the ground. Earlier, Megumi had cataloged every inch of it, eyes flicking from corner to corner, anticipating something, anything.

Now, He still scans., Still tracks, But it’s not as rigid, Not as tight. His thoughts drift again, but differently.Instead of spiraling inward, they settle somewhere just out of reach. Stable.

This is stupid, Megumi thought.

He shouldn’t feel different just because someone’s walking next to him. That’s not logical. Has nothing to do with skill or strength. And yet, His breathing is easier now. The tension knotting in his chest has loosened into something manageable. Even the restless unease under his skin has dulled, replaced by a quieter awareness that doesn’t claw at him the same way.

Megumi frowns slightly.

“…Stop walking so close,” he says suddenly.

Itadori blinks. “Huh? I’m not even that—”

“…Closer than usual.”

Itadori looks down at the space between them.

It’s barely anything.

He grinned a little. “Wow, Fushiguro. Didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

Megumi exhales, resisting the urge to shove him slightly just to make a point. “…Just keep your distance.” “Got it, got it,” Itadori says, though he only shifts half a step away. Megumi notices, Pretends he doesn’t. Another silence settles, but this one is… easier. Not empty. Just quiet. “…Hey,” Itadori says after a while. “You really okay, though?” Megumi’s first instinct is automatic.

“Yes.”

The word sits there. Wrong. He knows it. Itadori probably knows it too. Megumi huffs softly, gaze fixed forward.

“…I’m fine enough.”

Itadori doesn’t push. He never really does, not in a way that forces answers out of him.

“Alright,” he says lightly. “Good enough for me.”

Megumi side-eyes him. “That’s a low standard.”

“It works.”

…It does. Megumi looks ahead again, the faintest shift in his expression, something less guarded, less sharp around the edges. The rest of the walk stretches out in front of them, familiar now.

Safe.

Or at least, Safe enough.

And though Megumi would never admit it out loud, not even if pressed, By the time the dorms come into view, there’s only one thought lingering, quiet and reluctant in the back of his mind:

It’s easier like this.

With someone beside him.

With him beside him.

★○★○★○★

When they reach the dorms, the lights in the building are mostly off, only Nobara's windows were still glowing against the night. Megumi slows slightly as they approach the entrance, the familiar structure settling something in his chest he hadn’t realized was still tight.
Home. Or something close enough.
He exhaled quietly.
Beside him, Itadori stretches his arms over his head with a soft groan. “Man, I’m tired. That mission earlier totally wrecked me.”
Megumi nods faintly. “You were overextending.”
“I was not—okay, maybe a little.” Itadori grins. “But it worked out.”
“It ‘worked out’ because I stepped in.” Megumi said with an irritated tone, unlike Yuji he still held slight grudges.
“Team effort,” Itadori corrects, nudging him lightly with his shoulder.
Megumi shoots him a look, but there’s no real bite behind it this time.
“…You’re annoying.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
They step inside, the door clicking shut behind them. The hallway is quiet, the overhead lights dimmed for the night. It’s warmer in here, faintly stuffy compared to the crisp air outside. Megumi feels it immediately.
The shift.
The way enclosed space traps everything, heat, scent, presence.
His shoulders tense again before he can stop them.
Itadori notices.
Of course he does.
“…Hey,” he says, quieter now. “You sure you’re okay?”
Megumi pauses mid-step.
For a moment, he considers brushing it off again, giving the same answer, ending the conversation before it goes anywhere. That would be easier.
Safer. Megumi reasoned with himself
But for some strange reason, he doesn't. He exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward the floor.
“…Just tired,” he says.
It’s not a complete lie.
Just not the whole truth.
Itadori watches him for a second, expression softer than usual. Not a prying gaze, just trying to read him in that straightforward way Megumi still hasn’t figured out how to deal with.
“…You’re a bad liar,” Itadori says finally.
Megumi clicks his tongue. “Then stop asking questions you don’t need answers to.”
“Yeah, but I want the answers.”
“…That’s not how that works.”
“Should be.”
Megumi starts walking again, heading down the hall toward his room. He expects Itadori to peel off at some point, to wave him off and disappear into his own space.
He doesn’t.
Footsteps follow.
Megumi stops outside his door.
So does Itadori.
For a second, neither of them speaks.
The silence isn’t uncomfortable, exactly.
Just thick.
Full of things Megumi doesn’t particularly want to say out loud.
“…You going to your room?” Megumi asks, glancing sideways.
Itadori rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just—” he hesitates, rare and awkward. “Wanted to make sure you got back okay.”
Megumi stares at him.
“You walked with me the entire way.” a confused tone laced his voice.
“Yeah, I know, but—” Itadori makes a small, frustrated gesture. “You know what I mean.”
Megumi does.
That’s the problem.
He looks away first.
“…I’m fine,” he says again, quieter this time.
Itadori’s expression tightens just slightly, not convinced.
“Fushiguro,” he says, a little firmer. “You’ve been acting weird since I found you.”
“…I said I’m fine.” Megumi was a bit harsher than needed.
“I know what you said.” Yuji was unbothered
Megumi’s jaw shifts. Biting the inside of his teeth in contemplation.
There’s a beat where it feels like the conversation could tip, could turn into something sharper, something defensive.
He doesn’t want that.
Not right now.
Not with… everything already off-balance.
He exhales slowly.
“…It’s just—” he starts, then stops, visibly annoyed with himself.
Itadori doesn’t interrupt.
That… helps more than it should.
Megumi closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. Changing his mind.
“…Just a bad night,” he finishes.
Itadori studies him for a moment.
Not pushing.
Not demanding more.
Just… taking what he’s given.
“…Okay,” he says finally.
Relief flickers, small but real.
And then, before Megumi can fully process it…
“Then I’ll stay.”
Megumi blinks. “What?”
Itadori shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Just for a bit. Till you’re, like, actually okay.”
“That’s not necessary.” Megumi argued, Yuji didn't know the event to come, how dangerous his action could really be.
“Probably not,” Itadori agrees. “Still doing it.”
Megumi stared at him.
There’s no argument in Itadori’s posture. No hesitation. Just that same straightforward certainty he always has when he decides something.
It’s… frustrating.
And Megumi looks away again, fingers tightening slightly at his sides.
“…Do what you want,” he muttered.
It’s not permission.
Not really.
But it’s not a refusal either.
Itadori smiles a little, like he knows exactly what that means.
“Cool,” he says.
Megumi unlocks the door, pushing it open. The room is dark, quiet, untouched since he left earlier.
Safe.
He steps inside, Itadori following a second later.
The door clicks shut behind them.
And for the first time since he stepped out into the night
That restless edge under Megumi’s skin eases completely.
He doesn’t comment on it.
Doesn’t acknowledge the way his shoulders finally drop, the way his breathing settles into something steady.
But Itadori…
Itadori notices anyway.
He always does.
“…Told you,” Itadori says lightly, leaning back against the wall.
Megumi glances at him. “Told me what?”
“That you weren’t fine.”
Megumi huffs quietly.
“…Shut up.”
But there’s no heat behind it.
Just something softer.
Something that lingers in the quiet space between them, unspoken, but understood.
And this time
Megumi doesn’t mind it.
Megumi doesn’t say anything after the door closes.
He just… stands there for a second.
Like he’s recalibrating.
The room is quiet, too quiet, maybe, but it’s different from outside. Contained. Familiar. Safe in a way the street hadn’t been, even if he’d never admit it out loud.
Behind him, Itadori shifts his weight against the wall, not pushing, not filling the silence like he usually would.
Just staying.
Megumi notices that.
Of course he does.
He moves first, slow and deliberate, shrugging off his uniform jacket and tossing it over the back of his chair. His movements are controlled, but not as precise as usual, there’s a faint drag to them, like his body is reacting a beat too late to what his mind tells it to do.
Annoying.
He reaches up, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck.
It doesn’t help.
The dull warmth sitting under his skin hasn’t gone away, it’s just… quieter now. Less sharp, less overwhelming. Manageable, as long as he doesn’t think about it too much.
Megumi exhales and sits down on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees.
“…You don’t have to hover,” he mutters without looking up.
“I’m not hovering,” Itadori replies.
A beat.
Then, quieter
“I’m just here.”
Megumi’s fingers curl slightly.
That answer again.
Simple. Direct. Hard to argue with.
“…Same thing,” he says anyway, though there’s no real bite left in it.
Itadori doesn’t respond to that. Instead, there’s a soft shift of movement, fabric rustling, footsteps crossing the room. Yuji stopped by Megumi's fridge, taking something out of it.
Megumi tenses instinctively
Then stills when a bottle of water is held out in front of him.
“Here,” Itadori says.
Megumi looks up at it for a second.
Then at Itadori.
“…I didn’t ask.”
“Nope.”
“…I’m fine.”
“I know,” Itadori says easily. “Take it anyway.”
Megumi stares at him a second longer, like he’s considering refusing out of sheer stubbornness.
Then he clicks his tongue softly and takes it.
“…Annoying,” he mutters, unscrewing the cap.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.”
He takes a drink.
It helps more than he expects.
The coolness grounds him just enough to push some of the lingering haze further back. His shoulders ease as he exhales, slower this time.
They lapse into silence again.
But this one is… softer.
Itadori eventually slides down the wall to sit on the floor, back resting against it, close enough to be there, but not intruding.
Not crowding him.
Megumi notices that too.
How he keeps just enough distance.
How he doesn’t push closer, even though earlier he hadn’t seemed to mind.
It’s deliberate.
And for some reason, that small consideration settles something in Megumi’s chest more than anything else.
“…You’re being quiet,” Megumi says after a while.
Itadori tilts his head back against the wall. “Didn’t wanna annoy you more.”
“You were already doing that.”
“Wow. Brutal.” Yuji held his hand up to his chest, mimicking a hurt expression, though he wasn't really
Megumi huffs faintly.
“…You’re usually louder.”
“Yeah,” Itadori admits. “Figured you didn’t want that right now.”
Megumi doesn’t answer immediately.
Because that’s right.
And Itadori shouldn’t have known that.
But he did anyway.
“…It’s fine,” Megumi says, quieter now.
Not quite an apology.
Not quite permission.
Itadori glances over, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Cool,” he says.
They sit like that for a while.
Megumi on the bed, slightly hunched forward, the water bottle loose in his hand. Itadori on the floor, relaxed in a way that somehow never feels careless.
The tension doesn’t disappear completely.
But it changes.
It’s not sharp anymore, not clawing under his skin.
It’s dull. Fading. Something he can exist with instead of something he has to fight.
Megumi’s gaze drifts, settling somewhere unfocused on the opposite wall.
“…Sorry,” he mutters suddenly.
Itadori blinks. “For what?”
“…Earlier.”
“For calling me annoying?” Itadori grins. “You do that every day.”
Megumi frowns slightly. “…Not that.”
He exhales slowly.
“…For being… off.”
The word feels inadequate.
But it’s the closest he’s willing to get.
Itadori watches him for a second.
Then shrugs lightly.
“You’re allowed to be,” he says.
Megumi’s fingers tighten slightly around the bottle.
“That’s… not really how it works.”
“Why not?”
“…Because it’s inconvenient.”
“For who?”
“…Everyone.”
Itadori tilts his head, considering that.
“…Doesn’t really bother me,” he says after a second.
Megumi looks over at him, faintly incredulous.
“You said I was murdery like three times.”
“That’s different. You’re always like that.”
“…I’m not.”
“You kind of are.”
Megumi almost argues.
Almost.
But the energy for it isn’t there.
Instead, he looks away again, quieter this time.
“…Still.”
Itadori leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling.
“You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time, you know.”
Megumi doesn’t respond.
He doesn’t agree either.
But he also doesn’t reject it.
The room settles again into silence.
This time, it lingers longer. And slowly, without really noticing when it starts, Megumi’s posture loosens.
The tension in his shoulders fades completely, his breathing evening out, steady and quiet. The haze that had been clinging to him all night drifts away into something distant, manageable enough that he doesn’t have to think about it anymore.
He feels… tired.
Not strained.
Not restless.
Just tired.
His eyes slip closed for a second.
Then a little longer.
Across from him, Itadori glances over, and stills.
Megumi’s head dips slightly, shoulders finally relaxed, his grip on the water bottle loosening.
Not fully asleep.
But close enough.
Itadori doesn’t say anything.
Doesn’t move.
He just stays where he is, quiet, steady, present.
And after a moment, Megumi shifts slightly on the bed, just enough to settle into something more comfortable. He doesn’t open his eyes. But his voice, when it comes, is softer than before.
“…Don’t leave yet.”
It’s barely louder than a whisper.
Half-asleep.
Unfiltered.
Itadori’s expression softens immediately.
“Yeah,” he replies, just as quiet.
“I won’t.”
And this time, Megumi doesn’t fight the calm that follows.
He lets it take him under, slow and steady, knowing—without having to think about it—that when he wakes up…
He won’t be alone.
And for a while, nothing happens.
Megumi’s breathing evens out gradually, the last of the tension he’d been holding onto slipping away in slow, quiet exhales. The room settles around him, still, dim, undisturbed.
Itadori doesn’t move. Not at first.
He stays where he is on the floor, back against the wall, head tilted slightly as he watches Megumi. There’s something unfamiliar in the way Megumi looks now, softer, unguarded in a way he never is when he’s awake.
Itadori isn’t used to seeing that.
Fushiguro is always sharp. Always aware. Even when he’s tired, there’s a kind of edge to him, like he’s half-ready to get back up at any second.
But now, that edge is gone.
His shoulders are loose, head tipped slightly forward, dark hair falling into his face. His hand has gone slack around the water bottle, barely held in place.
Itadori studies him for a second longer, then sighs quietly.
“…You’re really bad at taking care of yourself,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything.
Carefully, slow enough not to make any noise, he pushes himself up from the floor.
Megumi doesn’t stir.
Itadori hesitates for a second, then steps closer.
“Hey,” he whispers softly. No response.
“…Fushiguro.”
Nothing.
He huffs quietly under his breath. “Yeah, okay. Out.”
So he moves gently, reaching out to take the bottle from Megumi’s loose grip before it slips. He sets it aside on the nearby table, then pauses.
There’s a moment where he just stands there, looking down at him, unsure.
Then, “Sorry,” he mutters, even though Megumi can’t hear him.
He reaches out again, this time more carefully, removing Megumi's arms from his knees, carefully placing Megumi back just enough to get him to lie down properly. Megumi shifts faintly at the contact, brow tightening for a split second, but he doesn’t wake. Just exhales softly, sinking back into the mattress. Itadori lets out a quiet breath, relieved.
“Man, you’re heavy,” he whispers, though there’s no real complaint in it. He could lift ten Megumi's and not break a sweat. Once Megumi’s lying down, Itadori pulls the blanket over him, a little awkward but careful not to jostle him too much. He tucks it just enough so it won’t slip off, then straightens up.
For a second, he thinks about leaving.
He probably should.
Megumi’s asleep now. He said he’d stay until he was okay, and this counts, right? He looks fine. More than fine, honestly, just… finally at rest.
Mission accomplished.
Itadori takes a step toward the door.
Stops.
Glances back.
Megumi hasn’t moved.
Still, quiet, breathing steady.
“…Yeah,” Itadori sighs softly. “No way.”
He walks back over and slides down to sit on the floor again, this time closer to the bed. Close enough that if Megumi woke up, he’d see him immediately. Close enough that he wouldn’t be alone. Itadori leans his head back against the side of the mattress, eyes half-lidded.
“…You’re lucky I’m so nice,” he mutters.
Silence answers him.
But it’s not empty.
Minutes pass.
Maybe longer.
The room stays still, the only sound the quiet rhythm of Megumi’s breathing and the faint hum of the building around them.
At some point Megumi shifts.
It’s small. Barely noticeable.
But Itadori picks up on it instantly.
His head lifts.
Megumi’s hand tightens slightly in the blanket, like he’s searching for something without waking up. His brow creases faintly, not fully restless, just… not as settled as before.
Itadori watches him for a second.
Then, without really thinking about it
“…I’m still here,” he says softly.
The words are quiet, simple.
Enough.
Megumi’s hand stills.
The tension in his brow fades.
And just like that, he settles again, slipping back into deeper sleep.
Itadori blinks.
Then huffs a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh under his breath.
“…Seriously?”
He shakes his head slightly, but there’s a small smile there.
Something warm.
Something soft.
He lets his head fall back again, gaze drifting toward the ceiling.
“…You’re such a pain,” he murmurs.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t leave. Instead, he stays right there, within arm’s reach, quiet and steady, like he promised. And sometime later, without even realizing it, Itadori dozes off too, resting against the side of the bed.
Still there.
Still close.

★○★○★○★

So when morning light eventually starts to filter through the window
The first thing Megumi will wake up to
was proof that he wasn’t alone after all.
Morning came too quickly.
At first, Megumi doesn’t realize anything is different.
He wakes the way he always does, quietly, without a jolt, his awareness returning in slow, controlled layers. The faint light filtering through the window hits his eyes, soft and pale, and he exhales as he shifts slightly under the blanket.
Warm.
Still.
For a brief second, everything feels… normal.
Then he notices it.
Something is… off.
Megumi’s brow creases faintly as he stares at the ceiling, unmoving. He doesn’t sit up yet, just listens.
The room is quiet.
But not empty.
There’s another presence.
Close.
His senses sharpen immediately, the last haze of sleep clearing in an instant. His cursed energy flickers awake, not fully summoned but enough to react if-
His gaze snaps sideways.
and stops.
Itadori is right there.
Slumped against the side of the bed, head tipped awkwardly against the mattress, one arm folded under himself like he gave up halfway through getting comfortable. His breathing is slow, even though he's fully asleep.
Close enough that if Megumi moved his hand even slightly over the edge of the bed, he’d brush against him.
Megumi just… stares.
For a second longer than necessary.
“…Idiot,” he mutters under his breath.
But it’s quiet.
Soft.
There’s no real irritation behind it.
More like… disbelief.
Megumi pushes himself up slowly, careful not to make too much noise, though Itadori doesn’t stir anyway.
He looks… uncomfortable.
Obviously.
Megumi clicks his tongue faintly.
“…You could’ve at least used the couch,” he murmurs, even though Itadori can’t hear him.
The events from last night come back in pieces, walking home, the tension, the quiet in his room, the way everything had… settled. The way he had settled. Megumi’s fingers tighten slightly in the blanket.
And then, . . .
That moment.
“…Don’t leave yet.”
His expression tightens.
He remembers saying it.
Or… something like it.
Half-asleep. Unfiltered.
His ears burn faintly at the thought.
“…Tch.”
He drags a hand down his face, annoyed with himself. That wasn’t something he meant to say out loud. Not something he usually would say at all. Megumi glanced back down at Itadori.
Still asleep.
Still there.
He didn’t leave.
Even when he could’ve. Even when Megumi passed out and wouldn’t have known the difference. Megumi’s gaze lingers for a moment. Longer than it should. There’s something… steady about the sight. Something that sits oddly in his chest, not sharp, not uncomfortable. Just… unfamiliar in a quiet way.
He exhales slowly.
“…You really are stupid,” he mutters again, quieter this time.
But his shoulders have already loosened. The instinct to immediately put distance between them, to reset things, to retreat, doesn’t hit as strongly as it usually would. Instead, Megumi swings his legs over the edge of the bed carefully.
He pauses.
Looks down.
Itadori hasn’t woken up.
Not even a little.
Megumi hesitates, then nudges him lightly with his foot.
“…Hey.”
Nothing.
A little harder.
“Itadori.”
A faint groan escaped Yuji's mouth.
“Mm… five more minutes…”
Megumi stares at him flatly.
“You’re on the floor.”
“…Feels like a bed…” Itadori slurs, barely conscious.
“That’s because you’re leaning on mine.”
“…oh.”
Silence.
Then Itadori blinks one eye open, squinting up at him.
“…Oh.”
Megumi crosses his arms. “You’re in my room.”
“Right,” Itadori mumbles.
A beat.
Then realization hits fully.
“Oh. Right!”
He jerks upright too fast and nearly hits his head on the bed. Megumi subtly shifts back just in time.
“You stayed,” Megumi says flatly.
Itadori rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah… I guess I crashed.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Hey, I was on guard duty,” Itadori protests weakly.
Megumi raises an eyebrow. “You fell asleep.”
“…relaxed guard duty.”
Megumi exhales through his nose, but the edge isn’t there. Not like usual. Another small silence settled between them. However this one was… different, it wasn't tense, not awkward. It was just, what was the word for it?
Aware.
Megumi looks away first.
“…Thanks,” he says.
His thanks was quiet. Quick. Like he’s trying to get it out before he can reconsider.
Itadori blinks.
“For what?”
Megumi’s expression tightens slightly, like he already regrets saying anything.
“…For staying,” he mutters.
Itadori’s expression softens immediately.
“Oh,” he says.
The interaction was simple. There was no teasing, no pushing.
“Oh.”
Megumi shifts slightly, uncomfortable under the weight of that kind of response more than any joke.
“…Don’t make it a big deal.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
A beat.
Then Itadori grins a little. “You slept way better, though.”
Megumi narrows his eyes. “You were asleep. You wouldn’t know.”
“I woke up a couple times,” Itadori shrugs. “You stopped tossing around.”
Megumi stills.
“…I don’t toss.”
“You do,” Itadori says confidently.
“…I don’t.”
“You were, like -” Yuji made a vague shifting motion.
Megumi cuts him off. “Stop talking.”
Itadori laughed softly, but he soon let it go. As another quiet moment passes, Megumi glanced sat him again, quick, subtle.
Still there.
Still solid.
For a moment the spiky haired boy thought he might be dreaming. For some reason, that steadiness eases something in him again, even in the bright clarity of morning. He looked away, embarrassed of his thoughts, he shouldn't be thinking this stuff about Itadori.
“…Next time, use the couch,” Megumi finally said reluctantly, blush coming across his face.
Itadori grinned widely, huffing a small laugh. “So there’s gonna be a next time?”
Megumi immediately frowns. “That’s not what I-”
But he stopped.
Because arguing it feels… unnecessary, too much energy. And after that mission yesterday, he sure wasn't up for the unnecessary action. Instead, he exhales quietly and turns toward the door.
“…Just don’t fall asleep in weird places again.”
Itadori got up, stretching. “No promises.”
“…Idiot.” Megumi ts ked
However Megumi didn't push him out. Didn't rush him out. And as they move around the dormitory, small, ordinary motions, the start of a normal day, there’s something lingering under it all.
Quiet.
Unspoken.
But steady.
Like the absence of something that had been there before.
Like the memory of last night, of not being alone
hasn’t quite faded yet.

★○★○★○★

Later That Day Megumi's thoughts would not settle. It’s not that he’s unfamiliar with overthinking, he analyzes things constantly, fights, situations, people. That’s normal. Useful.
This isn’t that.
This feels… strange.
He notices it the moment he steps outside again. The air is different from the night before, lighter, warmer, carrying the distant noise of the city fully awake. Conversations bleed together, footsteps pass, cars move steadily in the background.
Everything is normal.
Predictable.
Grounded.
And yet, Megumi slows half a step without realizing it. He shouldn’t, and there’s no reason to hesitate now. But his body registers the shift before his mind does: the open space, the absence of walls, the lack of something nearby that had been there earlier.
His jaw tightens slightly.
This is stupid.
Objectively, nothing is wrong. If anything, he feels better than he had in days, clear-headed, stable, fully in control. No lingering discomfort, no sharp awareness pressing against his senses.It’s what he wants.
So why? Oh,
Behind him.
“Hey,” Itadori calls lightly. “You’re doing it again.”
Megumi doesn’t turn. “…Doing what.”
“That thing where you slow down like you forgot how walking works.” Itadori recalled Megumi doing the strange walk just yesterday, Why is he walking like that again? Yuji thought.
“I didn’t slow down.” Megumi argued with Yuji once more, his irritated mood returning once more.
“You did.” Yuji crossed his arms, unrelenting
“…You’re imagining it.” Megumi turned his head to the side, unable to look a Itadori
“Why is it you love to argue?.”
Megumi clicks his tongue, just barely restraining himself from snapping something sharper in response. Instead, he forces his pace forward again, steady, deliberate. Back to normal.
That’s all this is supposed to be, a normal walk. And yet, his awareness shifts again, not outward this time, but inward.
To the difference.
Last night, everything had felt too sharp. Overwhelming in quiet ways. Like the world was pressing in too close. However now it doesn’t, now instead of relief, there’s this faint, irritating echo of something missing.
Megumi frowns.
You’re overthinking it.
That’s the answer. It has to be.
People don’t just… change how things feel like that. Not because someone else is nearby.
That’s not logical.
…
Except…
Megumi's eyes flicked slightly to the side, to where Itadori is walking beside him, hands in his pockets, completely relaxed. His eyes weren't watching him directly, not hovering. Now that he'd gotten the full view of Yuji, he'd noticed his honest, worried expression.
Megumi looked away immediately.
But the thought has already landed.
I can't be thinking this things,
He can pinpoint the moment, the exact second that tension snapped and settled into something manageable.
It had been him.
Megumi exhales slowly.
Why the hell are these feeling popping up now? is it because of my heat?
“…You’re staring.” Yuji noticed
“I’m not.” Splats of red began to cover Megumi's face
“You were just staring.” Yuji leaned closer, making Megumi's mind turn incoherent.
“…I wasn’t.”
Itadori grins slightly. “Sure.”
Megumi’s expression flattens, but he doesn’t argue further. It’s not worth the effort right now.
Because his focus is already slipping again.
Back to that same line of thought.
That doesn’t make sense.
It shouldn’t.
He’s relied on people in fights before, it’s normal to adjust, to feel different depending on who’s with you. That’s teamwork. Compatibility. But this wasn’t in a fight, this wasn’t strategy.
This was, what was it?
Megumi’s fingers flexed slightly at his side once he'd been able to pinpoint the feeling.
It was comfort.
The word lands, unwelcome.
Megumi immediately rejected the idea.
No.
That’s not right.
It wasn’t comfort.
He reasoned in his mind, trying to find a better feeling, something that made him go deeper into denial. Stabilization. A temporary shift in stimulus. Something situational.
That’s all.
It has to be.
Because if it isn’t, then it means his state can be influenced that easily, quietly, quickly.
Megumi’s jaw tightens.
That’s dangerous.
If someone can affect his focus, even unintentionally, that’s a liability. Something an enemy could exploit. Something that could throw him off at the wrong moment. That’s not acceptable.
He’s spent too long building control over himself to just-
“…You’re doing it again.”
Megumi stops.
Actually fully stops this time. He drew a breath, this was all to much for him.
“…What,” he says, slower now.
“That,” Itadori says, pointing vaguely at him. “You go all quiet and intense, then you start walking like someone insulted your existence.”
“…Someone did insult my existence.”
“Oh, really?” Itadori leans in slightly. “Who?”
Megumi stares at him flatly.
“You.”
A beat.
Then Itadori laughs. “Wow. Harsh.”
Megumi exhaled, tension slipping just slightly despite himself. It’s small, almost nothing really. But it interrupted the loop in his head just enough. Yuji notices that, too, of course he does. And that, that’s the part that gets him, because it happens again. Without effort, intention.
It was just,Itadori talking, existing, acting like nothing is complicated, and the pressure in Megumi’s chest lightens a fraction.
“…You’re distracting,” Megumi mutters.
Itadori blinks. “Huh?”
“From thinking.”
“Uh… is that a bad thing?”
“…Usually.”
Itadori snorts. “You think too much anyway.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
“Pretty sure it is,” Itadori replies matter-of-factly.
Megumi almost snaps back. Almost. But he doesn’t, because instead, he considers it.
Not the words, no not that, the effect. Because he was right. Megumi’s thoughts had been looping, tight, repetitive, unproductive. And now they’re not. Unfortunately they weren't gone, not completely. Now the were just… quieter, you know less sharp,more manageable.
Megumi exhaled slowly.
This is exactly the problem.
Because even now, standing here in broad daylight, with nothing wrong, nothing pressing, his awareness keeps circling back to the same conclusion. He feels better when Itadori is around.
It wasn't strength, nor agility, it was his whole state of mind. It was way more settled. Megumi’s expression tightens slightly. That matters more than it should.
“…You alright?” Itadori asks again, softer this time.
Megumi glances at him, really looks this time. There’s no calculation there, no expectation. Just that same steady presence he’s had since last night.
Uncomplicated.
Reliable.
There.
Megumi looks away first.
“…Yeah,” he says quietly. However this time, he doesn’t add anything to it. Because it’s true.
He is alright, more than alright,not because the feeling went away. But because he stopped fighting it long enough to understand it a little better. Not fully or comfortably. But enough.
Megumi shifted his weight slightly and started walking again. This time, when Itadori falls into step beside him Megumi doesn’t try to adjust the distance.
Doesn’t tell him to move over. Doesn’t correct it.
He just… lets it stay.
And when that quiet steadiness settles in again, he doesn’t immediately push it away. Instead, he files it somewhere he can examine later, carefully, privately. Because this, whatever it was, it wasn't something he understood yet. But it’s also not something he can ignore anymore. After a bit, Yuji was called off, Nobara needed help with errands, and of course it had to be yuji who helped her.

Now everything could be clear.

Right?

★○★○★○★

To blow of steam, Megumi decided to head to train, something to do at least, while Yuji was away. No missions were beckoning him right now, thankfully. The training field was still damp with early morning dew when Megumi stepped into it, mud getting on his shoes. He’s was already focused, already there. Cursed energy hums faintly under his skin, steady, coiled, responsive, just like Gojo taught him. No lingering imbalance from yesterday, no distraction pulling him off-center.
Which is exactly why this bothers him.
Because he knows what changed it.
“…Didn't expect to find you here,” Itadori calls out, jogging over.
Megumi doesn’t turn. “Done with Nobara already?.”
“It was just a few bags”
Knowing Yuji it was probably quite a few, not like he'd have any trouble with them really, he's seen Yuji in action. Megumi finally glanced at him. Itadori looked the same as always, loose, bright, completely unbothered. There’s no tension in his stance, no hesitation. He just rolls his shoulders, like this is another normal day.
Like last night didn’t happen.
Megumi’s gaze lingers for half a second.
“…Ready?” Itadori asks.
Megumi exhales softly.
“…Try to keep up.”
That’s all the warning he gives. The two both moved at the same time there wasn't a countdown. No signal. Megumi shifted first foot angled, weight low, hands already moving.
“Divine Dog.”
The shikigami bursts forward immediately, shadow splitting cleanly into form. It lunges straight toward Itadori, fast and direct. Itadori reacts just as quickly, pivot, duck, hand catching the momentum of the strike before it fully lands.
“Starting aggressive today, huh?”
Megumi doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t slow down either.
His hands shift again
“Second.”
Another shadow stretches, shifting angles, forcing Itadori to adjust mid-step. There’s no wasted motion.
Not a single spec of hesitation. Megumi presses forward, each movement precise, calculated.
But beneath that, there’s something else. Itadori felt it almost immediately.
“…You’re testing something,” he says, deflecting another strike.
Megumi’s gaze sharpened.
“…Don’t talk.”
“I’m serious,” Itadori grins, stepping in closer instead of backing off. “You’re extra focused today.”
Megumi counters, fast enough that Itadori barely blocks it.
“…Stop analyzing.”
“Someone's in a mood”
Megumi clicked his tongue, and pushed harder. Not reckless though, he could never reckless, but deliberate. He closes the distance himself this time instead of letting his shikigami do it. Forces the fight into closer range, faster exchanges, tighter reactions.
Because he’s testing something, and Itadori was right to notice it.
Megumi is measuring.
Not just his own control, but how it shifts with proximity. Every time Itadori steps in, every time their spacing narrows, Megumi tracked the change.
The feeling.
That quiet steadiness from yesterday.
It doesn’t hit all at once like it did last night. It was subtler, this time is was faint, more consistent since he'd knew what he was looking for now.
Every time itadori is close, his cursed energy stabilizes just a fraction faster. His reactions feel extremely more cleaner, there was less noise in the labyrinth of his mind now, less interference.
Megumi’s eyes narrow slightly.
There it is.
A quick exchange, Itadori slips past one of his strikes and ends up just within arm’s reach.
Too close.
Megumi moves to counter, and realizes-
He adjusts faster than expected, cleaner than expected. There’s no lag, no split-second delay. Perfectly aligned, then they separated again.
Megumi takes two steps back, not because he needed or wanted distance. Because he wanted to confirm.
“Again,” he says.
Itadori blinks. “We’re literally already going-?”
“Closer,” Megumi adds.
There’s a small pause.
Then Itadori grins, something in his expression sharpening slightly.
“Got it.”
The next exchange is different and similar at the same time, it was closer, tighter. Less space to think, more reliance on instinct. Itadori moves in without holding back this time, forcing Megumi to meet him directly instead of controlling from range.
And again Megumi feels it, each time more clearer that the last, Not as overwhelming, it was just right, like he'd found the perfect frequency on the radio. Like the edges of everything smooth out when Itadori is within reach.
His thoughts don’t scatter, nor over correcting. He just moved.
“…Okay,” Itadori breathes out between strikes. “Now I know you’re testing something.”
Megumi doesn’t answer, because at this point he doesn’t need confirmation anymore. He already has it. The session ends faster than usual, and not because they’re tired. Because Megumi stops it.
“…That’s enough,” he says, stepping back fully.
Itadori lowers his hands, blinking. “Huh? Seriously? You usually keep going longer.”
“…I got what I needed.”
“Which is…?” Itadori leans forward slightly.
Megumi looks at him.
His face calculating and quiet.
“…Nothing you need to worry about.”
Itadori sighs. “You’re impossible.”
“…And you talk too much.”
But Megumi doesn’t look away immediately.
And that that doesn’t go unnoticed.

★○★○★○★
"…Am I seeing things, or are they being weird?”
Nobara squinted across the field, arms crossed as she leans against the railing, sitting on the metal bleachers. Beside her, Maki doesn’t even glance up at first, still keeping her gaze upon the cloudy sky, “They’re always weird.”
“No, but like it's like today their, more weird.”
That gets Maki’s attention.
She looks up, following Nobara’s gaze.
Across the training ground, Megumi and Itadori are standing a few feet apart now, talking, or rather, Itadori is talking, and Megumi is… being Megumi.
“…Huh,” Maki says.
Nobara immediately points. “See?? Totally weird right?”
Maki tilts her head slightly. “Fushiguro ended it early.” Maki's know Megumi for about a year and a half now, and although they didn't talk much, she knew his training habits. It was strange.
“Exactly! He never does that. He’s like, the king of ‘one more round.’”
Nobara narrowed her eyes to focus more on the two on the field, reasoning once more “And they were closer.”
“…Closer?” Maki turned her head to Nobara now, tilting her head in confusion.
“Yeah,” Nobara nods, completely serious. “Their spacing.”
Maki raises an eyebrow. “You’re analyzing their spacing now?”
“I’m very observant, thank you.”
Maki hums softly, watching a little more carefully now. Nobara was right, Megumi usually fought at a distance, he wasn't close range. His shikigami usually did the work, but today he found himself closer.
Highly unusual, Maki thought
“…You’re not wrong.” her tone was curious, she wondered what had changed.
Nobara straightened her back immediately. “Right? It wasn’t normal sparring distance.”
It wasn’t., Maki saw it clear as glass now, paying more attention. Megumi had been closing the gap himself. Repeatedly. On purpose.
“…That’s interesting,” Maki mutters.
Nobara leans in slightly. “Interesting how?” she inquired
Maki crossed her arms, eyes still fixed on them. “Fushiguro prefers control and range. Keeps people where he can manage them.”
“Yeah, duh.” Nobara wasn't seeing her point, but she let her go on.
“He wasn’t doing that.”
Nobara pauses.
“…Oh.”
Now that she thinks about it
“You’re right.”
They both watch in silence for a moment.
Down on the field, Itadori is laughing about something. Megumi looks vaguely annoyed, but not pushing him away. Not creating distance, just standing there, letting it happen.
Nobara squints harder.
“…Wait.”
Maki glances at her. “What.”
“That’s not just weird.”
“…What are you getting at.”
Nobara’s expression shifts, slow realization creeping in.
“That’s intentional.”
Maki’s gaze sharpens slightly.
“…Yeah.”
Because Megumi doesn’t do things like that unintentionally. Not repeatedly, not in a pattern. Down below, Megumi turns like he’s about to leave, then pauses just enough for Itadori to fall into step beside him. They walk off together.
Normal.
Casual.
But not separate.
Nobara slowly lowers her hand.
“…Oh, this is so interesting.”
Maki snorts faintly. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I already started,” Nobara says, grinning. “You don’t change your entire fighting style for no reason.”
Maki doesn’t respond immediately because she’s still watching, thinking, evaluating, all the evidence in her mind.
“…It’s not a weakness,” she says finally.
Nobara glances at her. “Huh?”
“Whatever that is,” Maki nods toward where they left, “it’s not throwing him off.”
If anything, it made Megumi sharper, more efficient more precise. Maki’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…It’s stabilizing him.”
Nobara blinks.
“…Wait.”
Another pause. Then her grin came back, wider this time.
“Oh, that’s even worse.”
Maki sighs. “For who.”
Nobara shrugs. “For him. Obviously.”
Maki huffs quietly, already turning away.
“…We’ll see.”
But as they start walking off, she doesn’t dismiss it either. Because whatever’s going on between those two it’s not random.
And it’s definitely not over.

★○★○★○★
They don’t immediately split at the intersection the way they usually do. It’s subtle at first, barely noticeable, the kind of thing most people wouldn't even register. Their steps slow just slightly, almost unconsciously, until forward momentum fades into stillness without either of them deliberately stopping.
This is where they should part ways.
It’s routine. Natural. Expected. It's what they've done every day since Yuji had joined Jujutsu high, Megumi knows that. And yet, he doesn’t move.
The realization settles a fraction of a second late, trailing behind his body’s hesitation. It irritates him immediately, this lack of clean intention, this tiny disconnect between decision and action. Beside him, Itadori stops too, shifting his weight with an ease that suggests he doesn’t find anything strange about the pause.
“…You were saying something about me being late?” Itadori says, tone light, casual, like he’s trying to nudge things back into something familiar. Like everything had been before, before things had gotten . . . weird between them.
Megumi didn't answer right away, because the quiet between them had changed. It’s not the easy quiet from earlier, the one were they could sit comfortably between words and didn’t demand anything.
This is something else.
Heavier.
Tighter.
He can feel it pressing in, subtle but undeniable, like an unseen shift in pressure that unsettles the air around them. Megumi’s gaze drops briefly, unfocused, before he forces it forward again.
“…It’s fine,” he says, sharper than he intends.
The words land wrong even as he says them.
Too abrupt.
Too final.
Itadori notices.
“That’s not what this is,” he replies, and there’s something quieter in his voice now, not challenging, but not letting it go, either. Megumi’s jaw tightened,
“What are you-”
“You’ve been thinking about it all day,” Itadori cuts in, steady but firm, his gaze fixed on him now in a way that’s harder to ignore. “Whatever this is.”
The statement settles heavily between them, it’s not an accusation. That almost makes it worse.
It made it worse because Megumi can’t deflect it easily, he can’t brush it aside as exaggeration or misunderstanding. It’s accurate, and he hates that.
“…You’re making assumptions,” Megumi replies, even though the words feel thin.
“I’m watching you,” Itadori says simply.
That lands differently than anything else. Not invasive. Not forceful. Just… honest. This was unlike Yuji, usually he didn't press on, his patience never wearing thin. Now however, Yuji was tired of asking over and over, he loved Megumi but there was unfortunately a limit to his patience, he couldn't take any more deflecting.
Megumi’s fingers curl faintly at his side, tension slipping into the movement before he can stop it.
“…It’s not something that matters,” he says, attempting to close it there, to reduce it into something manageable again.
But Itadori doesn’t let it disappear.
“Then why do you look like it does?”
The question lingers, stretching out the silence that follows into something long enough to feel. Megumi feels it settle in his chest, not sharp, but heavy. A weight pressing against something he’s been deliberately keeping contained. Answering means acknowledging it. Acknowledging it means giving it shape. And giving it shape means he can’t ignore it anymore.
“…It’s inconvenient,” Megumi says at last, quieter this time, like the edge has dulled without his permission.
Itadori exhales softly, almost like he’d expected that exact answer.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it is.”
“How?”
This time the question is sharper, not aggressive, but pointed, direct in a way that refuses to let Megumi hide behind repetition. Megumi turns toward him fully now. And for the first time, something cracks through his usual composure, not outwardly obvious, but present in the tension of his expression, the faint tightening around his eyes.
Frustration.
Not at Itadori.
At himself.
“…Because I don’t like not knowing why something affects me,” he says, the honesty slipping out before he can suppress it.
The admission hangs there. Itadori doesn’t react immediately.
Doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t soften it with humor.
He just listens.
And that, more than anything else, makes Megumi continue.
“…And I don’t like that it does,” he adds, quieter.
There it is.
Stripped down to its simplest form.
The actual problem.
Not the presence of the feeling.
Not the effect it has.
But the fact that it exists at all, uninvited, unstructured, outside of his control. The space between them shifts again. Not sharp like before. But heavier. More grounded in something real. Itadori tilts his head slightly, studying him, not dissecting, just trying to understand.
“…You really hate things you can’t control, huh.”
Megumi exhales quietly, the sound faint but steady.
“That’s obvious.”
“Yeah,” Itadori says, softer now. “But this isn’t really something you need to control.”
“It is to me.”
“Why?”
Megumi’s jaw sets again instantly.
The answer comes without hesitation.
“…Because that’s how you stay alive, it's how you were born, it's not really something you can control.”
The words are flat, automatic, something practiced, something ingrained so deeply it doesn’t require thought. But once they’re out, they settle heavier than anything else he’s said. Because that isn’t just about training.
Or sparring.
Or control.
That’s something older.
Something fundamental.
And for the first time, Itadori goes quiet in a way that isn’t casual.
Megumi notices it immediately.
And just as quickly, he regrets saying it.
“Forget it,” he mutters, brushing it off too late.
But Itadori doesn’t let it disappear.
“…You don’t have to figure everything out right away,” he says, quieter.
“That’s not how it works.”
“It could be.”
“It can’t.”
“Why not?”
Megumi shifts back half a step.
Small.
Subtle.
But meaningful.
Because this is getting too close to something he doesn’t want to unpack right now, something he’s not prepared to examine out loud.
“…Because I said so,” he replies.
Weak.
He knows it immediately.
The kind of answer he usually doesn’t give. And that only makes the tension press tighter for a moment,
until Itadori speaks again.
“…You trust me, though, right?”
Megumi freezes. That wasn’t where he expected this to go. The shift is immediate and jarring, pulling him out of his spiral before he can brace for it.
“…What?”
Itadori looks a little less certain now, not unsure, but more deliberate, like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“I mean… if this whole thing is about me being around, or helping, or whatever,” he shrugs slightly. “You don’t think I’d mess that up, right?”
Megumi stares at him.
That question cuts straight through everything else, it bypasses the analysis. The control. The discomfort. And leaves only something simple. Clear. There’s no hesitation.
“…No,” Megumi says.
Firm.
Immediate.
Certain.
Itadori’s expression softens, not dramatically, just enough to show it mattered.
“Then what’s the problem?” he asks.
And this time, the question is quiet.
Not pushing.
Not forcing.
Megumi exhales slowly.
And for once, there isn’t an immediate answer. Because when stripped down that far, there isn’t one. Just discomfort with something unfamiliar. With something unstructured.With something he can’t fully define yet.Megumi looks away, shoulders loosening just slightly.
“…There isn’t one,” he admits.
The words come out quieter than anything else he’s said so far.
But they’re real, and that’s enough, for now.
Itadori smiles faintly, but doesn’t comment.
Doesn’t tease.
He just nods once.
“Okay.”
And something shifts.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough for the tension to break slightly, like a held breath finally released.
Megumi inhales slowly, the tightness in his chest easing without him consciously telling it to. “…You’re still coming later,” he says, almost like he needs to anchor the moment to something normal again.
Itadori grins instantly. “Yeah. I said I would.”
“…Don’t make it weird.”
“You made it weird first.”
“…Shut up.”
Itadori laughs, soft, easy, and the sound smooths out the last lingering edge between them.
This time, when they start walking again, there’s no pause. No space between them left unaccounted for.
They just fall back into step.
Side by side.
Already used to it.

★○★○★○★

Later that evening Maki and Nobara decided to invite them to lunch, wondering if they could find out more about the blooming event from earlier. Although Megumi thought his heat would come straight on, it was just slowly presenting, not fully coming out yet, so he thought he could join lunch this evening.
Rain slowly started to drip from the sky, and thankfully, the scent of wet grass, moss, and mud, loomed in the air, hopefully that would make Megumi's mind semi-coherent. Maki and Nobara stood each under their own umbrella by the entrance of the school, waiting for the others.
"You think their gonna be weird? " Nobara tilted her head towards Maki, it had only been a few hours since they'd seen Yuji and Megumi in the field, they didn't know if the tension was still there or not.
"Don't know, guess we'll find out" Maki was nonchalant on the outside, but she was impatient and just as curious as Nobara on what the hell was going on between Itadori and Fushiguro.
Nobara sighed, tapping her foot against the wet concrete, making the water splash. She could never understand how Maki kept her patience, but she would sure as hell try.
They waited another six minutes before Megumi was in sight, of course, right alongside him was Yuji. The two fast walked under the rain, they weren't prepared like the girls and didn't have an umbrella. Yuji however, was a bit chivalrous, and lended Megumi his jacket to put over his head so he wouldn't get too wet.
Sighing, Maki took Nobara's umbrella, moving her under her own umbrella, and handed Nobara's umbrella to Yuji.
"Take it before you two get sick, seriously, how irresponsible can you two be", Maki scolded, but it came from a place of deep care. Yuji blabbed out apologies and Megumi stayed silent, nodding along in agreement.
"Sorry, we forgot to check the weather, we didn't know it was gonna rain" Yuji reasoned, while raising the umbrella over him and Megumi, taking a small step closer to him. Megumi tried to act like Yuji's pheromones had no effect on him, but his nose flaring gave him away to Maki.
"Whatever, let's just go eat, I'm starving" Nobara interrupted, breaking the tension, making the two young boys sigh in relief.
It was a bit more bearable for Megumi on the walk there, the soft breeze against the rain helped mask Yuji's scent. Although it was a foggy and rainy day, Megumi felt as if the spotlight was on him. He really wasn't in the best mood at the moment, Yuji seemed to sense that. Placing a comforting arm on Megumi's shoulder, Yuji pulled him closer into the umbrella.

Glancing back, Nobara and Maki saw the scene unfold, giving each other a small smirk. The restaurant isn’t far, but the walk stretches longer than it should. Not physically, but for Megumi everything feels like it’s happening a half-second too sharply.
The rain softens the world, muffling sound, blurring movement, settling into a steady rhythm against the pavement and umbrella above them. It should make things easier, and in some ways, it does. The scent of wet earth, grass, and damp concrete fills his lungs, grounding him just enough to keep everything from tipping too far.
But not completely.
Yuji is still close.
Too close.
Megumi keeps his expression neutral, gaze forward, posture controlled, but he’s hyper-aware of everything: the way Yuji’s arm rests loosely across his shoulders, the warmth that filters through even with damp clothes between them, the subtle shift every time they walk in sync.
And worst of all, the scent. The pheromones.
Dulled by the rain, yes.
But still there.
Present in a way Megumi can’t ignore.
His fingers twitch faintly at his side.
Focus. Was repeated who knows how many times in his head.
They reach the restaurant just as the rain picks up slightly, the sound intensifying against the roof as they step inside. Warm air immediately replaces the cool dampness outside, carrying the faint smell of food, broth, and frying oil.
It should help, it was a normal environment. Neutral ground. When they step inside, the restaurant feels like a completely different world from the rain outside.
The door slides shut behind them with a soft sound, instantly muting the steady drumming of rain into something distant, a quiet backdrop instead of something pressing in from all sides. The door bell giving a soft chime to the ears. Warm air wraps around them almost immediately, thick and comforting after the chill of the storm, carrying the layered scents of broth simmering, grilled meat, and something lightly fried.
It’s not a large place.
Cozy, more than anything.
The lighting is low but warm, golden rather than bright, coming from small hanging lamps spaced evenly across the ceiling. They cast soft pools of light over each table, leaving the spaces in between slightly shadowed, giving everything a calm, tucked-away feeling.
The walls are simple, wood-paneled in parts, with framed prints and handwritten menu boards that look slightly worn, like they’ve been there a long time. Nothing flashy. Nothing overly decorative. Just familiar and lived-in.
Along one side, the windows stretch wide, glass fogged lightly from the difference in temperature inside and out. Rain streaks down them in uneven lines, blurring the outside into shifting shapes of gray and muted color, passing cars, distant lights, the vague outline of buildings softened by the storm.
Near the entrance, a rack holds umbrellas, some neatly folded, others dripping slightly onto a shallow tray beneath. The faint scent of wet fabric mixes with everything else, grounding the space in the present moment.
Most of the seating is close together, small wooden tables with simple chairs, arranged in tidy rows. A few booths line the far wall, dimmer and more private, half-hidden behind low partitions. The place isn’t crowded, but it’s not empty either, just enough people to create a low hum of conversation, occasional laughter, the quiet clink of dishes and chopsticks.
From the open kitchen, you can hear the steady rhythm of cooking, metal lightly tapping, oil sizzling, a pot being stirred. It blends seamlessly with everything else, creating a background noise that feels steady rather than distracting.
It’s the kind of place where voices naturally lower without anyone asking. Where people linger longer than they mean to. Where time feels slower, softened at the edges. For Megumi, stepping inside is almost disorienting. The rain had already dulled the outside world, but here, everything is contained.
Close.
Intimate in a quiet, understated way.
There’s nowhere for his senses to drift outward now. No open air, no distance. Just warmth, sound, presence, and proximity.He notices it immediately, even if he doesn’t show it. How the space pulls everything inward. How every movement feels slightly more noticeable. How every shift, every breath, every glance, carries more weight in a place like this.
Especially when Yuji is right there beside him.
The environment doesn’t amplify anything loudly.
It just…
Holds it there.
Keeps it from dissipating.
And that’s what makes it harder to ignore.Megumi exhales slowly as they step in, slipping out from under the umbrella.
“…Finally,” Nobara mutters, shaking water from her sleeve. “If you idiots got any wetter, we’d have to sit you under a heater.”
“We’re fine,” Yuji says, laughing, though he does shake his hair out like a dog.
Megumi steps slightly away from him. Subtly. Intentionally. Just enough space to breathe.Maki notices, nothing slipped past her. Her eyes flicked to Megumi for half a second, sharp, assessing, before she says nothing and turns toward the counter.
“Sit,” she says. “I’m ordering. Nobara, come with me.”
“Oh? Bossy today,” Nobara smirks, but she follows anyway.
Before she does, though, she throws one last glance back. Right at Megumi, then at Yuji, then a very knowing look at Maki. Megumi pretends not to notice. Yuji definitely doesn’t.
They end up at a small table near the window. Rain streaks down the glass in uneven trails, distorting the outside world into blurred light and motion. The soft ambient noise of the restaurant wraps around them, low conversations, dishes clinking, the hum of the kitchen.
It should be calming, but Megumi doesn’t sit all the way back in his chair, he stays slightly forward.
Ready.
Controlled.
Yuji drops into his seat across from him, stretching his arms out lazily.
“Man, that came out of nowhere,” he says. “One minute it’s fine, next minute, rainstorm.”
“Forecasts exist,” Megumi replies flatly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Yuji grins. “We'll remember to check next time.”
Megumi hums quietly in response,b ut his focus isn’t really on the conversation. It keeps slipping, back to earlier. To the umbrella. To how close Yuji had pulled him in without thinking. To how -
Megumi shuts that down immediately.
Not helpful.
“Hey,” Yuji says suddenly.
Megumi looks up. Yuji is watching him again. Not intensely. Just… paying attention.
“…You okay?” he asks.
Megumi pauses.
Just for a second.
Because, he could say yes. He usually would.But something about the way Yuji is asking, quiet, steady, not trying to push anything “…I’m fine enough,” Megumi answers instead.
Yuji studies him for a moment.
Then nods.
“Alright.”
No pressure.
No follow-up.
Megumi didn’t realize how much he needed that until it’s there. His shoulders loosen, barely, but it’s noticeable to anyone looking closely. Across the room, Nobara leans dramatically over the counter.
“I swear to God, if they’re just sitting there acting normal-”
“They’re not,” Maki cuts in calmly, handing over payment.
“How do you know?”
Maki glances back toward the table again. Megumi was sitting straighter than usual. Yuji is leaning forward slightly. Both of them are aware of each other in a way that’s just a little too deliberate.
“…Because Fushiguro hasn’t relaxed since he walked in,” Maki says.
Nobara squints.
“…Hmm, you’re right.”
“And Itadori’s watching him.”
“…, you’re right, observant much?.”
They both go quiet for a second.
Then Nobara’s grin spreads slowly.
“This is insane.”
“Don’t interfere,” Maki replies immediately.
“I wasn’t going to-” Nobara lies, already picking up their drinks. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“…Don’t.”
“…Fine.”
Pause.
“…Unless it gets boring.”
Maki sighs. Back at the table, Megumi is aware of it again. Not the room, nor the noise.Just Yuji. Specifically, how close he feels even when he’s sitting across from him. Which shouldn’t make sense. But it does. Because every time Yuji shifts slightly forward, every time his voice dips just a little quieter, every time their gazes accidentally hold a fraction longer than necessary, Megumi’s focus sharpens.
His breathing steadies. That same quiet clarity from earlier returns, subtle, but undeniable.And now, He’s noticing it on purpose.
That’s new.
“…You’re doing it again,” Yuji says softly.
Megumi’s eyes narrow. “…Doing what.”
“That thing where you go all quiet and stare like you’re trying to solve a puzzle.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“…I’m not.”
Yuji huffs a quiet laugh. “You are so stubborn.”
Megumi looks away, but this time, there’s less resistance behind it.
“…Better than being oblivious.”
“Hey,” Yuji leans forward slightly. “I’m not oblivious.”
Megumi glances back at him.
“…You really aren’t.”
The admission comes quieter than expected. Itadori paused. Just slightly. Because that, that sounded different.Before either of them can say anything else, Nobara practically drops into her seat.
“Miss us?” she beams.
“No,” Megumi replies immediately.
“Yes,” Yuji says at the same time.
Nobara grins wider. “I like him better.”
“Food’s coming,” Maki adds, sitting down more calmly, but her eyes briefly flick between them again.
Still watching.
Still assessing.
Megumi notices.
And for once, he doesn’t immediately shut it down. He just exhales quietly and leans back slightly in his chair. Not fully relaxed, but closer.Close enough that when Yuji’s knee bumps lightly against his under the table, Megumi doesn’t immediately pull away.
And when Yuji pauses like he’s about to move, Megumi doesn’t react at all.
Just stays.
Like it didn’t bother him.
Like it didn’t mean anything.
But the faint stillness in his posture gives him away. Across the table, Nobara and Maki both notice. Their eyes meet for half a second. And this time, neither of them hides their smirk.
Yuji reacts almost the opposite way Megumi does.
The moment they step inside, his entire posture shifts, not tense like Megumi’s, but looser, brighter, like something in him immediately settles without him needing to think about it.
“Whoa,” he says under his breath, eyes flicking around the room.
It’s quiet, but not in a heavy way.
It’s the kind of quiet he likes.
Warm. Lived-in. Safe.
He takes a deeper breath without realizing it, the scents hitting him all at once, food, spice, broth, something savory drifting from the kitchen, and his expression lights up almost instantly.
“Smells really good in here,” he adds, a little louder now, already half-smiling.
While Megumi becomes more aware in enclosed spaces, Yuji becomes, comfortable.
Grounded.
His shoulders drop, tension he didn’t even know he was carrying dissolving easily as he steps further in. The rain fades into the background for him, more like ambiance than something oppressive, and the warmth of the space replaces it seamlessly.
He likes how close everything feels. How the tables are near each other, how voices overlap softly, how nothing feels isolated or distant. For Yuji, proximity doesn’t feel risky. It feels human. He glances briefly, instinctively checking where Megumi is, not out of worry, but habit, and notices immediately that Megumi hasn’t relaxed the same way.
Yuji doesn’t comment on it right away, but he adjusts without thinking. Slows just a little so they enter together instead of one trailing behind the other. Keeps close, not crowding, just present. It’s instinctive for him, if something feels awkward or off, you don’t call it out first, you close the gap.
Make it easier.
As they step further in, Yuji notices the little things. The fogged-up windows with rain sliding down them. The quiet clinking of dishes. The way people lean toward each other when they talk. It reminds him of something familiar, something warm and normal, something outside of curses and training and everything else.
“…This place is nice,” he says, softer now.
Not performative. A genuine reaction, he didn't get much of this type of environment when he was a child. He drops into his seat easily once they’re at the table, stretching slightly like he’s already settling in, already claiming the space without realizing it.
Where Megumi stays forward, alert, Yuji leaned back at first, then forward again, adjusting naturally with the flow of conversation, never locking himself into rigid posture. And without consciously deciding to, he orientates himself toward Megumi.
Not directly.
Not obviously.
But his attention keeps drifting there, eye contact landing more often, body angled just slightly in his direction. Because even if Yuji doesn’t break it down the way Megumi does, he feels it.
That subtle shift.
That pull.
That sense that when Megumi’s near, something in him becomes a little more focused too, not sharper in the same way, but more… aware. More tuned in.He doesn’t question it.
To Yuji, it’s simple:
Megumi looks like he’s having a harder time than he should be.
So Yuji naturally fills the space differently. Quieter when needed. Lighter when things feel too heavy. Present in a way that doesn’t demand anything back. Even sitting across from him, he leans forward just slightly more than necessary, elbows near the edge of the table, gaze soft but attentive.
Not watching like he’s trying to figure Megumi out, but like he’s making sure he’s there.
Grounded.
Not alone.
And in a space like this, warm, close, filled with quiet human noise, Yuji thrives in it. He lets it soften him. While, without even realizing it, he becomes one of the things that anchors Megumi in place.
Maki notices it almost immediately. Not just that Yuji is relaxed, that’s nothing new. But how he relaxes.
Sitting across the table, she leans back just slightly in her chair, arms loosely crossed, her posture casual enough that most people would assume she isn’t paying close attention.
She is.
Always.
Her gaze drifts between the two of them in quiet intervals, not staring long enough to draw attention, but long enough to catch the details most people would miss.
Yuji is facing Megumi.
Not directly.
Or obviously.
But enough.
His body angles slightly toward him instead of outward toward the group, his attention naturally drifting back no matter what Nobara says or how loud the table gets. Every time Megumi shifts, even subtly, Yuji adjusts in response without thinking.
It’s unconscious.
That’s how Maki knows it’s real.
She watches the way Yuji softens his tone when he talks to him, barely noticeable, but distinct from how he normally speaks. Watches how his movements are just a fraction more careful, how he pauses a half-second longer when Megumi doesn’t immediately respond.
Not overbearing.
Just tuned in.
“…Huh,” Maki hums under her breath.
“What?” Nobara leans closer immediately.
“He’s not forcing it,” Maki murmurs.
Nobara blinks. “Forcing what?”
Maki doesn’t look at her.
“…Anything.”
That’s the difference. Yuji isn’t trying to fix Megumi. He isn’t trying to get answers, isn’t poking at the tension or making a show of being attentive. He’s just… responding.
Naturally.
Adjusting the moment Megumi shifts, like it’s instinct instead of effort. Maki’s gaze sharpens slightly as she studies them. It’s subtle, but she can see the effect just as clearly, if not more. Megumi, who usually sits rigid, controlled, detached even around people he trusts, isn’t completely relaxed.
But he’s less guarded.
His shoulders aren’t as tight.He isn’t placing as much distance. And every time Yuji leans forward slightly, Megumi doesn’t pull away. That’s the part that sticks. Maki exhales quietly, something like realization settling into place.
“…He stabilizes him,” she mutters.
Nobara’s grin widens slowly. “Oh. That’s bad.”
Maki almost smirks.
“…Or useful.”
Because to her, this doesn’t read as distraction. It reads as balance. Dangerous, maybe. Unfamiliar, definitely. But not weak. If anything, it makes Megumi more precise, and that’s what makes it worth watching.
★○★○★○★
The food arrives in waves. First comes the steam. Soft, curling tendrils rising into the warm air before the dishes even fully settle onto the table. It carries the scent ahead of it rich, layered, comforting in a way that feels almost immediate.
Nobara practically leans forward.
“Yes. Finally.”
The dishes are simple, but beautifully done.
At the center sits a large bowl of ramen, the broth a deep golden-brown, clear enough to catch the light, but rich with oils that shimmer faintly on the surface. Thin slices of pork rest along the edge, tender and pale pink at the center, melting slightly into the broth from the heat. A soft-boiled egg sits halved beside them, yolk glossy and just barely set, its color warm and sunlike against the darker tones.
Green onions scatter across the top in uneven bursts of color, along with a strip of seaweed that dips into the broth like ink spreading slowly across water.
Steam rises steadily from it, carrying the scent of soy, garlic, and something deeper, long-simmered, patient, grounding.
Beside it, smaller dishes fill the table.
Crisp gyoza, lined neatly on a plate, their golden-brown edges catching the light perfectly, the bottoms just slightly caramelized. When one is nudged, it shifts with a soft, delicate resistance, the filling inside still steaming faintly through the thin wrapping.
A plate of karaage chicken sits just behind it, pieces uneven in shape, coated in a light, crisp batter that crackles softly under the slightest touch. A wedge of lemon rests at the side, its sharp brightness cutting through the richer, savory scent rising from the plate.
Bowls of rice follow, simple, white, gently steaming, their warmth filling the small spaces between everything else. And drinks, cool against the heat of the food, condensation forming slowly along the glass as they’re set down.
The table feels full. Not crowded. Abundant was the perfect way to describe it.
Warm.
Inviting.
For Yuji, it’s immediate.
“Whoa, okay, this looks amazing.”
He leans in without hesitation, eyes bright, already reaching for chopsticks with barely any restraint. The warmth of the food just adds to the atmosphere he already likes, something alive, shared, natural.
“Can we start? We’re starting, right?”
“Obviously,” Nobara snaps, already grabbing a dumpling.
Maki doesn’t answer, she just picks up her chopsticks quietly, still watching without appearing to. Megumi sits still for a moment longer. Not because he isn’t hungry. But because the warmth of the food shifts the space again.
Adds another layer.
Another closeness.
Steam curls between them, drifting upward and softening the air even more. Combined with the rain tapping faintly against the windows, the space becomes even more enclosed, more intimate, in a quiet, steady way.
Megumi exhales slowly.
Then reaches forward.
He picks up his chopsticks with controlled precision, gaze flicking briefly toward the ramen before settling. Routine helps. Structure helps. The first bite is small.
Warm broth spreads slowly, sinking into his senses more gently than everything else has so far. It’s grounding, not overwhelming, not sharp. He didn’t realize how much he needed that. Across from him, Yuji watches for a second, not obviously, but enough.
Then relaxes again once Megumi actually starts eating. Like that was the marker. Like that was confirmation he needed. Maki notices that too, and this time, she allows herself the faintest, smallest smirk as she lifts her cup.
Because whatever is happening between them, it isn’t fading. If anything, it’s settling in just as naturally as the warmth spreading across the table.
The restaurant had grown quieter as the evening settled in. Rain still tapped softly against the windows, slower now, more rhythmic than before. The warm light had dimmed just slightly, deepening the shadows in the corners and making the glow over their table feel more contained, like their space had narrowed without anyone noticing.
Megumi had been fine.
He thought he was fine.
That same steady clarity from earlier was still there, but thinner now, stretched at the edges. The layering of scents, warmth, proximity, the enclosed space... it had started to press in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.
Until it wasn’t. His fingers tightened around his chopsticks without him realizing it. The noise in the restaurant, quiet as it is, started to blur together. Conversations overlap in ways he usually filters out easily, the soft clinking of dishes suddenly too sharp, too frequent.
His breathing shifts.
Just slightly.
Shorter.
He sets the chopsticks down quietly.
“…Megumi?”
Yuji’s voice cuts through it, not loud, clear in contrast to the cacophony.Megumi didn't respond immediately. He’s concentrating, forcing his breathing to even out, forcing his focus to narrow back into something manageable.
It’s nothing. Just overstimulation. Focus.
But his body doesn’t fully listen. The warmth in the room feels heavier now, the air too close. Even the faint scent of broth and frying oil seems stronger than before, mixing into something that presses too close to his senses.
And underneath it, Yuji. Closer than before, across from him, yes. But present, too present.Megumi exhales slowly, bracing his hands lightly against the table.
“I’m fine,” he says, out of habit more than anything.
Yuji doesn’t accept that right away, though he doesn’t argue, either. He just watched, quietly and closely. And then, he shifted. Not dramatically, not enough for anyone else to notice. But he moves his chair slightly, not all the way next to Megumi, not directly in front of him anymore either.
Just… closer to the side. Reducing the distance. Changing the angle.It gives Megumi room to not feel watched, while still keeping him close.
“…It’s a little warm in here, huh,” Yuji says casually, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m kinda overheating.”
It’s such a normal comment., so simple. So easy to agree with. Megumi latches onto it instinctively.
“…Yeah,” he mutters.
There’s a small shift in the pressure inside his chest, not gone though, but less sharp.Yuji pushes his sleeves up, leaning back slightly, not toward Megumi now, but easing the space, opening it instead of closing in.
“Hey,” he adds, glancing toward the others. “You guys mind if we crack the window a bit?”
Nobara eyes him suspiciously for exactly half a second.
Then shrugs. “Do whatever. I’m eating.”
Maki doesn’t comment, but her eyes flick once toward Megumi before she looks away again. Yuji stands, moving to the window beside their table. He slides it open just enough. Cool air slips in immediately. Not harsh, just soft.
Damp with rain. Grounded with the scent of wet grass and pavement. Megumi’s shoulders loosen a fraction before he can stop himself. His breathing slows. Yuji sits back down after a second, but not exactly where he had been before.
Closer now, not touching, not crowding, just within reach.
“…Better?” Yuji asks quietly.
Megumi doesn’t answer right away, because he’s noticing it again. That shift. That same steady, grounding feeling from before, subtle but unmistakable, settling back into place.
Stability.
“…Yeah,” Megumi says finally, softer than before.
Yuji nods once and leaves it there. For a few moments, neither of them speaks.The others’ conversation fills the space instead, Nobara complaining about something trivial, Maki responding dryly, but it’s distant, filtered.
Megumi’s world narrows again, but this time, it’s intentional. Controlled.His hands have relaxed against the table. His breathing is even again.And somewhere in the middle of that, Yuji shifts slightly closer. Not enough to make a point.Just enough that their knees almost line up.
Then, without making it obvious, Yuji lets his hand rest against the edge of the table. Close. Not touching. But there. An option.
A steady point.
Megumi’s gaze flickers downward, not long.Just enough to register it. Then back up again. He doesn’t comment. Doesn’t acknowledge it out loud.But— He doesn’t move away, either. Instead, he exhales quietly, and this time the breath comes easier.
“…You really don’t think things through, do you,” Megumi mutters after a moment.
Yuji glances at him, a small grin forming. “What gave it away this time?”
“…You just opened a window in the rain.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?”
Megumi pauses.
Just briefly.
“…Yeah.”
Yuji’s grin softens, not triumphant, not teasing.
“Then I’ll take it.”
Megumi looks away again, but the tension doesn’t come back.It stays gone. Or close enough to gone that he doesn’t have to fight it anymore. Their knees almost brush once when Yuji shifts again, and this time,
Megumi doesn’t even stiffen, across the table, Nobara pauses mid-bite, eyes narrowing slightly as she watches them. Maki doesn’t even bother hiding it anymore, her gaze lingers for a second longer this time, but neither of them says anything. Because whatever is happening, it’s quiet. Delicate.
Not something to interrupt. Back at the table, Megumi finally reaches for his chopsticks again.Slower now. Steadier. And when he takes his next bite the warmth doesn’t overwhelm him.
It settles.
Just like everything else.
★○★○★○★
It happened quietly.
Not during a big moment. Not when anyone is paying attention.Just somewhere in the soft lull after everything settles.
The rain has slowed outside, reduced to a faint, steady tapping against the windows, barely noticeable unless you’re listening for it. The restaurant has grown calmer too, the earlier rush thinning into a low hum of muted conversation and clinking dishes.
On their side of the table, things are quieter.
Nobara is mid‑rant about a recent shop that opened nearby, gesturing with her chopsticks, and Maki listens with half-attentiveness, occasionally adding a dry comment, but their voices feel distant, softened by the atmosphere, like background noise instead of something sharp.
Megumi sits back slightly more than before.Not fully relaxed, but closer to it. His shoulders aren’t tight anymore. His breathing has evened out. The earlier edge of unease has faded into something manageable, something he doesn’t have to actively fight.
In front of him, like always, Yuji is there. Not doing anything obvious. Just sitting close enough for it to matter. Their chairs are nearer than they were before, angled slightly so they face directly across from one another. Megumi is aware of it.
He’s aware of everything.
The faint warmth coming from Yuji’s side. The soft brush of fabric when either of them shifts slightly. The quiet presence that doesn’t press in, doesn’t overwhelm—just exists.
It should bother him.
Earlier, it would have.
Now, however his fingers rest loosely against the edge of the table, relaxed, no longer bracing himself like before. Across from them, Nobara laughs loudly at her own joke, and Maki rolls her eyes, but lets out a gentle laugh, but Megumi barely reacts.
His focus has narrowed again, quieter. Yuji shifts in front of him.
Subtle.
Almost absentminded.
His hand moves, sliding along the table as he leans in slightly to say something, something small, nothing important, and for a brief second, his fingers brush against Megumi’s.
It’s accidental.
Light.
Barely there.
Megumi stills.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that the contact registers. There’s a pause, a split second where instinct almost kicks in, where he could pull his hand away, reset the distance, return everything back to normal.
But, He doesn’t.
Yuji noticed once more. Not the tension, not the hesitation, but the lack of reaction. That Megumi didn’t move. His own hand lingers there for half a second longer.Then, slowly, carefully, he lets his fingers settle.
Not grabbing.
Not forcing anything.
Resting there.
Close enough to touch, close enough to leave the choice open. Megumi’s gaze dropped again. Only for a moment. Just enough to see it. To understand what’s being offered. This was different from interactions he's had with other alphas, Yuji didn't pressure him, didn't expect or demand obedience. A steady point.
His chest tightens faintly, not from discomfort this time, but something quieter, more difficult to name. Because this, this is unfamiliar in a different way. Not sharp. Not overwhelming.
But close.
Very close.
Megumi exhaled slowly, and instead of pulling away, his hand shifted. Just slightly. Enough that his fingers rest against Yuji’s. Not a full grip. Not even intentional-looking, from the outside.
The brief contact was soft, warm, and present Yuji doesn’t react immediately. Doesn’t tighten his hand or draw attention to it. Though a soft red hue spread on his face, making his face heat up.
He let his fingers adjust, barely, just enough to rest more comfortably against Megumi’s, threading together loosely without closing in.It’s gentle, deliberate.
Careful in a way that respects the space it’s given. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The noise of the restaurant continues around them, unchanged, unaware. But for Megumi, everything feels quieter again.
The warmth from Yuji’s hand isn’t overwhelming like everything else had been earlier. It doesn’t flood his senses or demand his attention. It just stays. His fingers loosen slightly against Yuji’s without realizing it, resting more naturally.
That’s what surprises him the most.
How easy it feels.
Yuji glances at him then, just briefly, not questioning, not searching, just checking. Megumi meets his gaze for half a second. Then looked away shyly. But he didn't pull his hand back.Doesn’t change the contact, or undo it.
“…You’re quiet again,” Yuji murmurs softly.
Megumi huffs faintly.
“…So are you.”
“Yeah,” Yuji says.
A brief moment passed by
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing right now.”
Megumi doesn’t respond. But his fingers shift just slightly again, subtle, almost imperceptible, then Yuji gave the faintest, careful squeeze, a comforting gesture. Across the table, Nobara pauses mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as she notices something.
Maki doesn’t even look surprised.
But neither of them says anything.

★○★○★○★
By the time they step back outside, the rain has softened into something thinner, no longer a steady downpour, just a quiet drizzle that hangs in the air like a fine mist. The pavement reflects the warm lights spilling from the restaurant windows, turning everything into blurred gold against deep gray.
For a moment, the four of them pause just outside the door. It’s subtle, the shift., the warmth left behind. Cool air settling back in. Reality returning. Nobara stretches her arms over her head with a small groan. “Okay, I’m not going straight back.”
Megumi glances at her. “…You just ate.”
“Exactly,” she fires back. “Now I have energy.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“It absolutely is.”
Maki adjusts her umbrella slightly, her expression calm but already decided. “There’s a shop down the street,” she says. “Been meaning to check it out.”
Nobara perks up instantly. “Oh. Say less.”
Megumi exhales quietly through his nose.
Of course.
Yuji grins. “You’re ditching us already?”
“Obviously,” Nobara says. “What, did you want to come shopping?”
Yuji pauses.
“…I mean, I could-”
“No,” Megumi cuts in immediately.
Yuji blinks. “Hey-”
“You wouldn’t survive five minutes.” This was true, but that wasn't the main reason he didn't want yuji to go.
“That’s not true!”
Maki snorts faintly. “He wouldn’t.”
Nobara nods, already grabbing Maki’s arm. “Come on. Before they accidentally get lost in the rain again.”
“We didn’t-” Yuji starts.
But Nobara waves him off.
“Text us if you, like, spontaneously combust or something.”
“…That’s not helpful,” Yuji mutters.
But she’s already turning, pulling Maki with her.
“Later!”
Maki lifts a hand in a half-wave without looking back.
“…Don’t do anything stupid,” she adds.
Then they’re gone, disappearing into the rain-soaked street, their umbrellas blending into the passing crowd. Just like that, it’s quiet again. For a brief second, neither Yuji nor Megumi moves. The space feels different without them.
Less noise.
Less distraction.
More focused.
Yuji exhales lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“…Well,” he says. “Guess it’s just us.”
Megumi hums quietly, gaze drifting down the street.
“…Yeah.”
The rain continues to fall in soft, steady droplets, catching faintly in Megumi’s dark hair, dampening the edges of his uniform. Yuji shifts slightly beside him, glancing up at the sky before pulling his hood up loosely.
“…We should probably head back,” Yuji says.
Megumi nodded once, to which they began to start walking. The city feels different now. Quieter than before, but not empty.
Cars pass occasionally, tires hissing against wet pavement. Streetlights reflect in puddles, breaking apart with each drop of rain. The air smells clean, washed through with damp earth and concrete, a steady, grounding scent that settles deeper into Megumi’s senses than anything else had earlier.
He walked at an even pace, hands in his pockets, gaze forward. Yuji matches him easily. They didn't need to adjust, they just, fell into step. Shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that their sleeves brush faintly when they move, but not close enough to feel crowded.
Megumi notices it.
closeness.
The absence of tension that used to follow it, the way his breathing stays steady instead of tightening. The way his thoughts don’t spiral. He exhaled slowly.
“…You okay?” Yuji asks.
Megumi glances at him.
“…Yeah.”
This time, there’s no hesitation. Yuji studies him for half a second, then nods.
“Good.”
And that’s it.
They walked for a while without speaking.
But it’s not uncomfortable.The silence isn’t heavy like just a few days ago, isn’t filled with things unsaid or tension waiting to break. It just exists. Yuji kicks lightly at a small puddle, watching the water ripple outward.
“…Nobara’s definitely gonna interrogate us later,” he says.
“She already is,” Megumi replies.
“Yeah,” Yuji grins. “Maki too.”
“…She’s worse.”
“Definitely.”
A faint pause.
Then, “…Do you care?” Yuji asks.
Megumi considers it.
Not long.
“…No.”
It surprises him a little.
But it’s true.
Yuji smiles softly at that.
“Cool.”
They cross into the forest, entering the high school grounds, the dorm buildings coming into view in the near distance. The rain eases further, drifting into something soft enough to barely feel. Yuji shifts slightly closer as they step over a shallow puddle, instinctive, without thinking.
Their shoulders brush.
Then stay.
Megumi notices, however instead of immediately correcting it, he let the proximity settle the same way everything else has been settling tonight, quietly, without resistance.
Yuji didn't comment, or react outwardly.But the small shift in his posture says enough.By the time they reach the dorm entrance, the rain has nearly stopped. Only faint droplets linger, sliding from rooftops, clinging to edges before falling quietly to the ground.
They stopped at the door.Another pause.Another moment where neither of them immediately moves. Yuji glances over at him.
“…You feeling better?”
Megumi meets his gaze. There’s no need to think about it this time.
“…Yeah,” he says.
Yuji’s expression softens just slightly.
“Good.”
Megumi looks away first, pushing the door open.
“…You’re still coming by later,” he mutters.
Yuji immediately brightens. “Yeah. I said I would.”
“…Don’t be loud.”
“No promises.”
“…Idiot.”
Yuji laughed softly.

★○★○★○★

The dorm room is quiet when Megumi steps inside. The faint echo of rain still lingers outside, softer now, barely more than a distant hush against the building. Inside, everything feels still, untouched, like the world has slowed down just enough for him to breathe.
He closes the door behind him with a quiet click, and for a moment, he just stands there. Not moving. Not thinking. Just letting the silence settle around him.
The day replays faintly in the background of his mind, the walk, the training, the restaurant, the shifting weight of his own thoughts, but it all feels dulled now, like it’s happening at a distance he doesn’t quite need to engage with yet.
Megumi exhaled slowly. Tension releasing from his shoulders, then he finally moved. The bathroom light flickered on, soft and pale compared to the warmer tones of his room. It reflects faintly off the tiles, clean and simple, everything in its place.
Megumi leans forward slightly, turning the shower knob without hesitation. The pipes groan faintly before water begins to flow, at first uneven, then steady, a constant stream filling the small space with sound. It grows louder quickly.
As he watched the steam begin to rise, curling softly into the air, fogging the mirror at the edges, he glanced at the mirror. Seeing himself in the reflection. A tired, and sweaty figure was staring back at him, had he really looked this horrible all day?
He picked and prodded at his skin, pulling at his eye bags. He winced in pain as a sharp pain started to pick up in his lower abdomen, shit. He squatted down to the floor, knees against his stomach. A looming headache started to form in his mind, gosh he really hated heats, he'd have to rethink inviting Yuji over.
Glancing over to the shower once more, Megumi stepped in once the water warmed, letting it hit his shoulders first. The contact is immediate. Heat sinking into cold skin, washing away the faint chill left over from the rain earlier. It’s not harsh, it spreads slowly, steadily, loosening the tight places he hadn’t fully noticed until now.
He exhales.
Longer this time.
The water drowns everything else out, there wasn't any distant noise, or overwhelming overlapping voices, or any constant awareness pressing at the edges of his senses. Just the steady rhythm of water falling around him, grounding him to something simple and constant.
Megumi tilts his head slightly, letting the water run through his hair, down the back of his neck. It trails along his shoulders, his arms, rinsing away the lingering dampness from earlier, the faint traces of the outside world.
For the first time all day, he doesn’t feel like he has to monitor everything, letting his guard down. He doesn’t feel like he has to track every detail, every shift, every change in himself. The tension that had built in layers finally starts to unravel.
Slowly.
Piece by piece.
His shoulders drop.
His posture loosens.
Even his breathing settled into something quiet and even, matching the steady rhythm of the water instead of trying to control it.
He closed his eyes, however his thoughts don’t disappear. They never do.
And inevitably, they land on him.
Yuji.
Megumi clicks his tongue softly under his breath, though there’s no real annoyance behind it anymore.
Unavoidable.
The memory of the evening surfaces in fragments, the steady presence at his side, the way the tension had eased without force, the unconscious closeness that hadn’t felt suffocating the way it should have.
That moment at the table.
Their hands.
Megumi’s breath catches very slightly before he forces it back to steady.
It didn’t matter.
That’s what he tells himself.
It was, situational.
Circumstantial.
He was already off-balance, already adjusting to something he didn’t fully understand.
It wasn’t-, He exhaled through his nose.
The water runs warmer for a second. Megumi reaches up, pressing his hand briefly against the tile wall, grounding himself again.
Then why didn’t you move away.
The thought is quiet.
Annoyingly direct.
He doesn’t have an immediate answer.
Because the truth is, he hadn’t wanted to. Not in that moment. Not even after. Megumi’s fingers curled faintly. The water continues to fall, steady and unchanged, unconcerned with the thoughts shifting beneath it. He lets his head dip forward slightly, water running past his face, his expression hidden behind it.
…It’s easier like that.
Megumi exhales slowly again, longer this time, letting the thought settle without trying to tear it apart. The tension doesn’t spike. He lets it exist without trying to control it. The water continued to fall. The steam thickens slightly, softening the edges of the room.
In the quiet, contained space, Megumi finally feels something he’s been resisting all day.
Stillness.
The kind that doesn’t demand anything from him.After a while, he reaches out, turning the water off. The sound cuts instantly. Silence replaces it just as quickly, the contrast sharp but not jarring. Drops of water still slide slowly down the tiles, quiet and irregular now.
Megumi stands there for a second longer.
Breathing steady.
Mind clearer than it’s been since earlier.
Not resolved.
Not fully understood.
But manageable.
Enough.
He steps out, grabbing a towel, drying his hair without thinking. The mirror is fogged over completely now, hiding his reflection. Megumi doesn’t wipe it away. Doesn’t need to see himself right now. Instead, he moves back into his room.
And though the quiet returns, it feels different this time.
But there it was, lurking in the back of his mind, the anxiety. Megumi wondered what the hell he could have done in the past life to deserve Yuji, he wondered if he deserved him now. That thought latched onto him in a troubling manner, does he deserve Yuji Itadori?, his overthinking had began once more.
No, I don't
Putting them on, he dragged his clothes against his skin. Plopping down on his bed, sighing in defeat, he groaned against his pillow. He had never been the best with feelings, and he could never ask Gojo anything, too embarrassed. He dragged a blanket over himself, encasing himself in a barrier that he didn't want anyone to intrude in.

★○★○★○★
The pain was bewildering. Megumi was bewildered, he couldn't understand, make sense on what was happening. His body tried to reject the pain, his mind being sucked again and again into the void that cut out large moments of his agony. Making it extremely difficult to keep up with reality.
Reality was tainted with blood, Megumi felt as if he was being sawed in half, ran over by a bus, hell he felt like he got directly attacked by hollow purple. A pain sharper than knives pierced Megumi's lower abdomen from the inside, he couldn't bear it and let out a painful shriek. He prayed no one heard it.
Black spots covered the soft light in the room that was being provided by the sun, another icicle cold point of pain pierced Megumi. His lungs ached, and it felt as if oxygen was being burned up by the second. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, but now the pain was gone, numbness plagued him.
He couldn't see, or feel, but he could hear. There was air in his lungs again, scraping up and down his throat in rough bubbles. In what seemed like it was far away, he heard a muffled voice, he couldn't quite place who it was yet.
He tried finding his state of mind again, but it was lost inside his own body. He blinked once more, now seeing the soft light once more. The light danced against the figure in the room, providing them a soft warmth. Whoever he was looking at was so perfectly beautiful that it stunned him beyond belief.
Megumi finally recognized who the beautiful being was, it was Yuji, of course. As his vision focused, Yuji placed his head softly against Megumi's chest. His skin felt warm and silky, but then there was pain again, a sharp slash of it, Megumi gasped loudly.
The darkness now was now more solid, acting like a thick blindfold. There was a crushing weight inside Megumi, a unpleasant series of pains plagued him.
Not knowing what to do, Yuji slowly and carefully, settled himself onto the bed. The positioning wasn't awkward, comforting was more like it. Embracing Megumi from behind, Yuji placed his hands on Megumi's abdomen, warmth providing a slim aspect of comfort.
Megumi didn't understand why this heat was different, he's never had one like this before, was it because of his recent close proximity to Yuji?. Maybe that was it, but for now he couldn't dwell on that fact.
Reluctantly Yuji decided to try something risky out, praying to the heavens that this would work. Slowly but surely, he released his pheromones, trying to give Megumi a warm and comforting feeling. His thoughts were calmed down when he finally heard the sound of Megumi sigh, pain relieved, he guessed.
Yuji didn't know what to say in this moment, "Gumi, can you hear me?" he spoke, testing the waters. He wouldn't be surprised if he regained mental consciousness and kicked him out. But instead he was met with something different.
"Shut up" Megumi's raspy voice croaked, turning towards Yuji now, burying his head in Yuji's collarbone. Wrapping his legs around Yuji, his gesture was returned with Yuji hugging him back tightly. A small huff of a laugh was emitted from Yuji, well that was that, at least he knew he was okay.
They laid there for a while, unmoving. The relief doesn’t come all at once. It isn’t sudden, or clean, or complete. The pain doesn’t vanish, it recedes, unevenly, like a storm pulling back in jagged waves, leaving behind an ache that lingers deep in Megumi’s body. It pulses there, slower now, duller, but still present enough that every breath reminds him it hasn’t fully left.
But something has changed.
The sharpness is gone.
And in its place, warmth.
Yuji’s arms around him are steady, solid, real in a way the rest of the world still isn’t. Megumi can feel it clearly now, the heat radiating from his chest, his hands resting carefully, gently over that unbearable ache in his abdomen, like he’s holding the pain in place so it doesn’t tear through him again.
Megumi clings to that without thinking.
His fingers curl into the fabric of Yuji’s shirt, grip tightening slightly as another weaker wave of discomfort rolls through him. This one doesn’t steal his breath the same way, it just presses, lingers, then fades into the background again. He exhaled, shakily. The air feels different now when it moves through his lungs, not scraping, not burning. But it isn't exactly pleasant either, he tried breathing through his nose again, smelling Yuji's scent reminding him that he was real.
Grounding.
Yuji didn't move, even when Megumi shifted closer, buried his face deeper into the curve of his shoulder, presses himself in like there’s nowhere else he could exist, Yuji just adjusts. Instinctively. Carefully pulling him in tighter without crushing him, one arm sliding more securely around his back, fingers spreading slightly like he’s trying to keep him anchored there.
“You’re okay,” Yuji murmurs softly, almost under his breath, like he’s not even sure Megumi is fully present enough to hear it.
Megumi stiffens faintly at the words, not because he disagrees.But because, he doesn’t know. He feels like his body isn’t entirely his right now. Heavy and light at the same time, distant and too close all at once. The memory of the pain is still fresh, sitting just under the surface like it could come back at any second.
“…Don’t-” Megumi starts, his voice rough, catching halfway through.
Yuji stills immediately.
“…Don’t what?” he asks quietly.
Megumi exhales against his collarbone, breath uneven, fingers tightening again.
“…Don’t say stuff like that.”
Yuji paused, just for a second. Then he finally got the courage to speak up again.
“…Okay,” he says.
No argument. He doesn’t say you’re fine, doesn’t insist. He just lets the words settle the way Megumi needs them to. That matters more than the reassurance itself. Megumi’s grip loosened slightly, it wasn't because everything is okay. It was because nothing is being forced on him.
The warmth remains constant.
Yuji’s presence doesn’t shift, doesn’t waver, doesn’t pull away even when Megumi’s breathing stutters again briefly. Instead Yuji adjusts his hand over Megumi’s abdomen, the touch careful, grounding instead of pressing. His palm stays still, but the heat there sinks deeper, spreading slowly through the tight, aching muscles underneath. Megumi feels it.
“…You okay if I stay like this?” Yuji asks softly after a moment, voice quieter now, more cautious.
Megumi doesn’t respond immediately. His mind is slower now, like he has to reach further for thoughts, grasp them before they slip away again. But his body answers first. His arms tighten faintly around Yuji. His head presses closer into the space between Yuji’s neck and shoulder where the warmth is strongest, where everything smells faintly like him, clean, grounded, familiar.
“…Stay,” Megumi mutters.
It’s barely audible, but it’s clear. Yuji exhales in quiet relief, his hold firming just slightly—not tighter, just more certain.
“Okay,” he says again.
And means it completely.
Time drifted.
Megumi can’t track it.
Minutes feel like they stretch into something longer, or maybe they don’t pass at all. His awareness fades in and out, but not the same way it did before, not swallowed, not lost.
Now, something holds him steady whenever he slips. Every time his thoughts start to blur, every time his body threatens to drift back into that hollow, numb place, Yuji is there.
The heat.
The weight of his arms.
The quiet rhythm of his breathing, steady against Megumi’s back.
It pulls him back every time.
Gently.
Without force.
Megumi becomes aware of it slowly.
The pattern.
The way his body responds to it. The way the discomfort lessens, not disappearing, but softening enough that he can exist with it instead of being consumed by it.
His brow furrows faintly.
“…Yuji,” he murmurs, voice still hoarse.
“Yeah?” Yuji answers immediately.
A pause. Megumi tries to find the words, but they don’t come easily. His thoughts still feel thick, slowed, drifting.
“…You’re…” he starts, then stops.
Yuji shifts slightly, just enough to better hear him, his chin brushing lightly against Megumi’s hair.
“I’m what?”
Megumi exhales.
“…Warm.”
It’s a simple word. But it carries more weight than he means it to. Yuji huffs a soft, quiet laugh.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Megumi’s fingers twitch faintly against his shirt.
“…Not like that.”
Yuji goes still again. Because he understands. Not completely. But enough.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
Something in the air shifts, not tense, not uncomfortable, just… deeper. More aware. Yuji doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t joke. Instead, his hold softens just slightly again, careful not to crowd, careful not to overwhelm the moment.
“…Does it hurt less?” he asks after a second.
Megumi nods faintly against him.
“…Yeah.”
The answer is honest. Simple, and for once, not something pulled through resistance.Yuji exhales, relief barely contained under his breath.
“Good,” he murmurs.
They stay like that. Long enough that the silence stops feeling like something to fill.Long enough that Megumi’s breathing evens out completely. Long enough that the lingering pain fades into a low, distant ache instead of something consuming. Megumi doesn’t let go. Even when he’s aware enough to. Even when the urge to re-establish control flickers faintly at the edges of his thoughts. He doesn’t act on it.
Because right now this is easier, and he knows it.Yuji doesn’t bring it up. Doesn’t question it. He just stays. Exactly where Megumi asked him to be. Eventually when Megumi’s grip loosens, when his breathing softens into something calm, steady, almost sleep-like, Yuji doesn’t move. Doesn’t risk breaking it, he just rests there with him, holding him quietly, until the last traces of pain finally fade into something distant enough that Megumi can finally rest without bracing for it to come back.
The room had gone completely quiet. Not the strained, fragile quiet from before, but something softer, fuller, like the silence itself had finally settled into place. The storm inside Megumi had passed, leaving behind only a faint ache, distant and manageable, like a storm remembered instead of lived.
Yuji hadn’t moved.
Not even a little.
He was still behind him, arms wrapped steady and sure, anchoring Megumi where he rested against him. The warmth that had once been the only thing keeping Megumi present was now something gentler—no longer a lifeline, but still there, still constant, still him.
Megumi’s breathing had evened out completely. Megumi could hear Yuji’s heartbeat faintly beneath his ear, steady and grounding, a quiet rhythm that he hadn’t even realized he’d started matching. It didn’t overwhelm him anymore. It didn’t press in or demand awareness.
It just existed.
Like everything else.
Slowly, carefully, Megumi shifted.
Not to pull away.
Just enough to turn slightly within Yuji’s hold, to face him more fully. The movement was small, cautious, like he was testing something fragile, something new. Yuji adjusted immediately, loosening his hold just enough to let him move, but not letting go entirely. His hands stayed in place, ready if Megumi needed that steadiness again. When Megumi finally looked up, Yuji was already looking at him.
Not with worry.
Not with urgency.
He was just quietly watching.
The closeness felt different now. Megumi’s gaze lingered, just for a moment longer than usual. His thoughts didn’t rush in to disrupt it this time. There was no immediate need to analyze, to overthink, to pull away and reset. Instead, he stayed.
“…You didn’t leave,” Megumi said quietly.
It wasn’t a question. Yuji blinked once, then shook his head slightly.
“You told me to stay.”
His voice was simple. Like that alone was reason enough. Megumi exhaled softly.
Of course, it would be, for him.
For a moment, Megumi hesitated. Then carefully and deliberately, he reached forward. His hand hovered for just a second, like his mind was catching up to what he was about to do, like the habit of pulling back still lingered somewhere under the surface. But he didn’t stop. His fingers brushed lightly against Yuji’s hand first tentative, testing.
Then, slowly they slid into place, fitting. The interaction wasn't forced in any way. As a matter of fact, it felt just right. Yuji stilled, his gaze softening without him even trying. He didn’t tighten his grip immediately.Didn’t react in a way that would break the moment. He just let their hands rest together until Megumi’s fingers closed slightly. Then Yuji responded. Gently.Carefully.
His hand curved around Megumi’s, holding it without pressure, just enough to be certain it was there. Megumi looked down at their hands for a second. There was no overwhelming rush of thought this time. No need to pull meaning from it, no need to create distance or label it as something dangerous.
Megumi’s thumb shifted slightly where it rested, without thinking, without second-guessing,and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before,but clearer too.
“…Your hand fits in mine,” he murmured in a soft voice.
Yuji’s breath caught softly, barely audible. Megumi didn’t look away this time. He held his gaze. Not guarded. Not distant. He was there in the moment, unrelenting, not willing to let go.
“. . . so don’t let go.” He finished off, slowly, never removing his eyes from Yuji's, he leaned towards him. Then abruptly, but very gently, placed his lips on his.