Chapter Text
“Okay, Fushiguro Megumi is officially one minute late. Any guesses as to why?” Maki asked, glancing up at the clock mounted on the wall.
Panda immediately raised a hand. “He tripped and fell down the stairs leaving his apartment.”
“No way,” Hana scoffed. “He probably has a horrible hangover.”
“I think he got kidnapped in his sleep,” Maki deadpanned.
The squad room erupted into overlapping arguments and increasingly ridiculous theories.
“You’re all wrong.” The familiar voice made everyone turn toward the doorway. Gojo Satoru strolled into the room with far more confidence than any human being should reasonably possess, sunglasses perched on his nose despite being indoors. “The line at his regular coffee shop is longer than usual,” he declared. “They’re running a discount today.”
A beat of silence followed. Then the elevator at the far end of the room let out a cheerful ding. The doors slid open, revealing Megumi Fushiguro standing inside with a paper cup of black coffee in one hand. He looked as unimpressed as ever, though there was a faint pink tint dusting the tops of his ears and creeping across his cheeks.
Gojo pointed dramatically. “Well, well, well,” he began. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Where were you, Detective? We were worried sick.”
Megumi took a slow sip of his coffee before answering. “There was a problem at the coffee shop.”
For half a second, the room was completely silent. Then Gojo threw both fists into the air. “HA!” he shouted. “SUCK IT, YOU SON OF A BITCHES!”
Panda groaned loudly and slumped back in his chair as if personally betrayed by reality. Hana rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful, muttering something under her breath about how boring the truth always was. Across the room, Maki looked genuinely disappointed that her kidnapping theory hadn't turned out to be correct. In fact, she seemed far more upset about being wrong than relieved that her coworker had not, in fact, been abducted during the night. Meanwhile, Megumi stared at them all with growing concern.
He turned toward Maki. “The fuck I miss?”
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Megumi quietly made his way toward the briefing room, coffee still in hand. He’d learned long ago that getting involved in any conversation involving Gojo Satoru was a mistake. A mistake he refused to make before he’d even finished his first cup of coffee. The briefing room slowly filled as the rest of the detectives filtered inside. Maki dropped into a chair beside him while Panda immediately claimed the seat closest to the snack table. Gojo strolled in last. For once, he actually looked serious. The room gradually quieted and Gojo tossed a file onto the table.
“Alright, listen up. We have a situation.” Several photographs scattered across the table. Burned buildings. Charred alleyways. Blackened remains of homes. Megumi’s expression immediately hardened. Arson.
“The media’s calling him the The King of Curses,” Gojo said, sounding deeply offended by the nickname. “Personally, I think that’s stupid.”
“It is stupid,” Maki agreed.
“Thank you.”
“Focus.”
“Right.”
Gojo clicked a button on the projector. A city map appeared behind him. “Over the last eight months we’ve had eleven confirmed arson cases. Different locations. Different victims. No obvious connections.” The map lit up with red markers. “The fires are escalating. The last three happened within a month of each other.”
Megumi studied the photos. Whoever was doing this knew exactly what they were doing. Minimal evidence, carefully chosen locations, precise ignition points. Professional.
“We’ve got three people in the hospital from the latest fire,” Gojo continued. “Thankfully no fatalities. Yet.” The room fell silent. That one word hung heavily in the air. Yet.
“So what’s the plan?” Panda asked.
Gojo grinned, and immediately Megumi knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “We’re working jointly with the fire department.” The room erupted.
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re joking.”
“BOOOOOO.”
Gojo looked delighted. Megumi pinched the bridge of his nose. Police officers and firefighters had been rivals for decades. Nobody remembered how it had started anymore. Every generation had its own explanation, but none of them sounded remotely believable. At this point, the feud existed simply because it always had. It was a tradition passed down from veteran to rookie, fueled by sarcastic comments, petty competitions, and an unwavering need to prove which department was better.
“They’re specialists,” Gojo said. “They know fire behavior, ignition patterns, burn analysis” He paused, "And, the captain of the station working with us is SUPERRR hot and I think I have a shot."
"You can't be serious." Said Megumi.
"Oh but I am. Soon Megumi, you'll be getting a new step daddy."
"Please never say that fucking phrase again."
"And why the fire department? Most of them just save cats from trees! We can do this without them!"
Right on cue, the doors of the briefing room swung open. The first person to step through was a tall man with striking amethyst eyes and silky black hair tied neatly into a bun at the nape of his neck. He carried himself with an effortless sort of confidence that immediately drew attention without demanding it. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his dark uniform, yet there was something commanding about him all the same. The low murmur of conversation around the room faded almost instantly as he entered. Even before he spoke a word, it was obvious he was the captain. The calm, measured way he scanned the room made him look like someone who was used to being listened to. Gojo was practically making heart eyes at the man.
Following close behind him was a girl with short auburn hair and sharp, dolce-brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. A confident grin was already stretched across her face as she strode into the room like she owned it. Unlike her captain’s composed presence, she radiated pure energy, her gaze darting around the detectives as though she were sizing every single one of them up. The confidence practically rolled off her in waves. Maki immediately straightened in her seat when she spotted her, her attention snapping toward the firefighter so fast that Megumi almost missed it.
Behind her came a shorter boy with soft, milky-white hair. The high turtleneck of his uniform covered nearly half his face, hiding his mouth entirely and leaving only his pale violet eyes visible. Those eyes lazily drifted around the room, giving him an almost bored appearance. Loosely holding his hand was another firefighter with messy onyx hair and noticeable dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted in a way that suggested chronic sleep deprivation rather than a rough night. Despite that, there was something undeniably gentle about him. Every few seconds his gaze flickered toward the smaller firefighter beside him, carrying a quiet fondness that was impossible to miss. The white-haired firefighter didn’t seem bothered by the contact in the slightest, allowing himself to be led along without complaint.
Lastly, a firefighter with fluffy pink hair and a black undercut stepped through the doorway. Soft hazel eyes swept across the room, bright and warm, and a relaxed smile rested comfortably on his face. Unlike the others, whose expressions ranged from confident to indifferent, he looked genuinely happy to be there. The dark navy uniform fit him unfairly well, accentuating broad shoulders and a lean build that looked like it had been carved out by years of physical training. He also looked really good. Thought Megumi, until recognition struck.
Oh.
Oh no.
Coffee shop guy.
Coffee shop guy was a firefighter.
Coffee shop guy was standing in his briefing room.
Coffee shop guy looks even hotter in uniform.
No don't think that!
Fuck.
When the firefighter caught Megumi's gaze, his whole face lit up. He gave Megumi a small wave along with a playful grin. A completely normal gesture. For some reason it made Megumi’s stomach do something deeply irritating.
“Squad,” Gojo announced, clapping his hands together, “these are the firefighters we’ll be working with, captain, Suguru Geto and his team."
The dark-haired captain stepped forward. "Hello everyone. These are the firefighters who will help you all solve this case."
The auburn-haired woman stepped forward. "I'm Kugisaki Nobara."
"Inumaki Toge."
"I'm Okkotsu Yuuta. Nice to meet you all!"
"The name's Itadori Yuuji!!"
"Itadori and Kugisaki will be leading the team from our side." Geto said.
"Along with detectives Maki and Fushiguro from ours." Gojo added. "I expect you all to be welcoming to our guests while they're here."
A collective chorus of “Yes, sir” echoed through the room.
"Maki, Fushiguro, take Itadori and Kugisaki to the bullpen and start discussing details of the case. The files are on your desks. In the mean time, Suguru and I will talk in my office."
"Alright."
"Good. Dismissed."
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“Okay,” Maki said, slamming the case file shut after several minutes of review. “I've gone through everything twice. This guy's good.” The four of them were gathered around a cluttered desk in the bullpen. “The arsonist hasn't left behind DNA, fingerprints, fibers, nothing. Every nearby security camera gets disabled before the fire starts. Whoever this is knows exactly how investigations work.”
“Then how do we know all the fires are connected?” Yuuji asked.
“Because of this.” Maki flipped a photograph toward them. A strange symbol had been spray-painted onto a wall. Beneath it sat the number two.
"What's that symbol?" Nobara asked.
"It's a geometric. It could be a crown or a trident. Honestly I have no clue what it means." (A/N: Guys just to clarify for the readers, I'm talking abt the symbol that's there on Sukuna's forehead.)
"Look's like a lotus bud to me." Yuuji said.
“You absolute doofus. Why would a serial arsonist choose a lotus bud as their calling card?” Nobara teased.
“I mean,” Megumi interrupted, “we should consider every possibility. Symbols can mean different things depending on context.”
Yuuji immediately pointed at him. “See? The cute cop gets it.”
"Yuck Yuuji! Stop the flirting. We have a job to do"
“Yeah,” Maki added. “No workplace flirting.”
Yuuji leaned closer to Megumi and not-so-subtly whispered in his ear. "But they're allowed to eye-fuck each other? Not cool." Nobara smacked the back of his head. “Ow!”
────୨ৎ────
The bullpen had gradually settled into its usual rhythm as the afternoon wore on. Phones rang somewhere in the distance. Detectives wandered between desks carrying folders and coffee cups. A printer repeatedly made sounds that suggested it was fighting for its life. At the far end of the room, however, Megumi's desk was buried beneath enough photographs and reports to qualify as a fire hazard.
Maki and Nobara had disappeared into the tech department nearly forty minutes ago, determined to figure out whether the mysterious symbol had any cultural, historical, or criminal significance. Megumi wasn't particularly optimistic, but he appreciated the effort.
That left him alone with Yuuji.
Unfortunately.
Megumi flipped through another crime scene report while Yuuji sat in the chair beside him, spinning a photograph between his fingers and talking Megumi's ears off. It started fine, he was talking to Megumi about the burn patterns, possibly entry and exit points, but then he started talking about anything and everything, the weather, the terrible coffee in the fire station, a dog he'd seen on the way to work, a sandwich he'd eaten three days ago that he was apparently still thinking about. Eventually, Megumi lowered the file in his hands and looked over at him.
"Do you always talk this much?"
Yuuji paused for a moment before smiling and saying, "Yeah."
Megumi sighed. "I figured."
"But mostly right now."
"And why is that?"
"I want you to like me." Yuuji shrugged.
The answer came so quickly and honestly that Megumi wasn't prepared for it, and before he could stop himself, heat immediately crept into his face. It was annoying—deeply, unbelievably annoying—and he quickly looked away before Yuuji could notice, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing any reaction at all.
"Do your job."
"Sure thing, Officer."
"Not an officer. I'm a detective."
"Same difference, Officer."
Megumi did not respond. Instead he went back to reading. A few minuites later, Yuuji spoke again.
"Officer?"
"What?"
"If I were to... hypothetically ask you out... uh.." Yuuji was blushing, but he still had that stupid, confident smirk on his face.
“Then in that hypothetical situation,” Megumi began, meeting Itadori’s gaze steadily, “it would clearly cross a few ethical boundaries. I doubt anyone would approve of us wandering off while a serial arsonist is still on the loose.”
“So what you’re saying is I have to wait until we take this guy down before I can take you out for a drink? Maybe a movie? Or a fancy dinner?”
“Who says I’d even agree to either of those?” Megumi replied, unfazed.
"You'll see. I'll get you to agree to a date by the time this guy's behind bars."
The confidence in Itadori’s voice made something heat under Megumi’s skin. He almost told him to stop acting so full of himself—but professionalism held his tongue in place. Instead, Megumi tilted his head slightly, arms crossing as he asked, “Do you flirt with every cop you work with?”
“Only the pretty ones,” Itadori said with an easy grin.
"Focus on the case, Fireguy."
Megumi clenched his jaw so tightly it ached, the urge to slam his head into the nearest wall growing more appealing with every passing second. He could feel the beginning of a headache forming right behind his eyes, dull and persistent, like a warning he was trying very hard to ignore.
Serial arson cases alone could take a year to solve—sometimes more if the suspect was careful, if patterns were inconsistent, if the fire scenes were too thoroughly erased. And this wasn’t even a straightforward arsonist. No, of course it wasn’t. It had to be an ex–serial killer on top of everything else, which only complicated jurisdictional cooperation, profiling assumptions, and every possible timeline Megumi had tried to construct in his head.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, as if that might physically push the frustration out of his system. It didn’t.
Why, of all possible cases, did it have to be this one?
Why, of all possible partners, did it have to be him?
Him and that infuriating grin of his—like he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed every second of it. Him and that effortless, unearned confidence, the kind that made Itadori flirt like it was second nature and made Megumi want to both roll his eyes and look away before he got caught staring. Because it was annoying. It really was. And yet it still managed to get under his skin in a way Megumi refused to analyze too closely, a way that felt far too close to admiration for something he would never openly admit to.
"FUSHIGURO!" Megumi had never been happier to hear his name.
He immediately stood. "What?"
Maki appeared at the doorway of the tech room with an arm around Nobara's shoulders, who was standing beside her. The two women looked far too pleased with themselves.
"We found something." Nobara announced.