Chapter Text
Being the ‘son’ of one of the most popular teachers in the school you attend must have been God’s way of giving Megumi Fushiguro the middle finger. Gojo was talkative and approachable, too approachable, that it gave this false illusion to others that surely being his son his personality wore off on you, right?
Wrong. Megumi and Gojo were like polar opposites, and the label of ‘Gojo-sensei’s adopted son’ followed him around every where. Primarily the reason why he stopped telling people that legally Gojo was his dad.
Legally, he could be considered part of the Gojo family. Whatever, laws can go fuck themselves.
Megumi picked at his breakfast, left-overs from the day before, not paying any attention to what Gojo was saying. Some bullshit about ignoring him in public probably, that’s all he’s been whining about recently.
“Megumi-chan,” Gojo drawled out, draping himself dramatically over him, to which Megumi rolled his eyes but made no attempt to push him off. “Do you hate me that much? You don’t even want to be associated with me anymore? Trust me, no one will even question it if we’re caught hanging out!”
Hanging out, like they’re both high schoolers. Good lord.
“Don’t call me that, I’m not a kid anymore.” The boy retorted back.
“Ah right, cuz seventeen means you’re the most mature person around?”
“More mature than you, certainly.” Shoko Ieiri muttered, looking up from her phone.
“Shoko? You too?” The man pouted, finally getting off Megumi to argue with her.
Sighing, the seventeen year old headed upstairs, grabbing his earphones and school bag, and promptly heading out the house. He pressed shuffle on his liked songs, despite having the privilege of being able to skip and choose freely (Gojo brought him Spotify Premium at some point despite Megumi never mentioning it) and ‘Come As You Are’ by Nirvana began to play.
Recently, he had been trying to listen to more Western artists when he stumbled across Nirvana and other similar bands. He had self taught himself English, and always felt a surge of pride in his chest when he could understand the lyrics of the songs he had been listening to on repeat.
He placed his hands in his pockets, and continued on without a care in the world. Music has always been a safe haven for Megumi, when their parents abandoned them, Tsumiki and him would sit in front of her music box which played that sweet tune on repeat whenever they were scared. Like that time it was a thunderstorm, and Tsumiki gestured Megumi to join her in focusing on the ballerina spinning rather than the malicious thunder coming from the sky.
That same music box was next to Tsumiki, on the bedside of her hospital bed. Where she lay with that same expression of nothingness. With a painful grimace, Megumi pushed that thought away, not eager to open his mind up to the paranoia that usually slipped in whenever he thought too hard about Tsumiki.
He walked to the nearby library, a place he had been visiting all too often recently. He went and sat down on his usual table, to the far right of the library, hidden behind the bookshelf, and took out his laptop, to begin writing notes regarding biology.
Suddenly, what Gojo had told Megumi the previous weeks ran through his mind.
‘It's the summer holidays, Megumi-chan! Enjoy it before school instead of this useless studying!’
What kind of teacher promotes not studying? Megumi forced himself to stop thinking of Gojo and began to mind dump onto the word document. It was quiet for a second, until he heard shuffling and a gasp. Turning his head, he spotted a familiar face from behind the book shelf.
Itadori Yuuji. Third year like Megumi, with cotton candy pink hair, and tanned skinned, presumably from being outside a lot. He wore a red hoodie, which took Megumi’s attention, it was summer? Who’s wearing a hoodie in this weather? Whatever, he was more concerned with why he was peeking behind the bookshelf to look at Megumi.
Itadori seemed to notice Megumi at the same time he narrowed his eyes at him, and waved, eyes crinkling.
“Fushiguro!” The boy said, still standing ridiculously behind the bookshelf. Megumi nodded at him. “What a crazy thing, we’re both here at the same time! Whatcha doin’?”
Megumi blinked then stiffly gestured to his laptop. Itadori whistled.
“Man, you are locked in,” He glanced at Megumi, as if anticipating he didn’t know what locked in meant. “As in, you’re so prepared-“
“I know what locked in means, Itadori.” He tried to refrain from rolling his eyes.
“Oh, haha! No, I- ahem. why are you studying?” Itadori swiftly changed the conversation. “I mean it’s the sumner, why don’t you go and bask in the sun?”
“I don’t like basking in the sun.” Megumi deadpanned, thinking back on the time they went to the beach and he got sun burnt.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously! Like actually?”
“Yes.”
“You know you kind of remind me of a vampire, Fushiguro.” Itadori began, tilting his head with a grin.
Megumi glared. “Itadori.”
“Oh right! You want to study, of course. Yeah no, of course you would. I didn’t think - ahem. I’ll just. Go. See ya later, Fushiguro!” Yuuji saluted and left, practically prancing away in a library.
Megumi blinked, but sighed, continuing his work, the sounds of his click-clacking against the keyboard filling the silence and Megumi thought back on the pink haired boy in the back of his mind.
— — —
The second incident of meeting Itadori in the wild could have also been passed off as pure coincidence.
Megumi had been forced out of the house by none other than Satoru Gojo, who insisted they go chill, maybe grab a coffee instead of staying inside or - god forbid - study.
Gojo’s chatter faded away in Megumi’s mind, it was too hard to focus on whatever crap Gojo was spouting out right now.
God, Megumi missed his bed. His sweet, beautiful fan under the god-send of a fan. Nice. Cool. Fan.
Nonetheless, Megumi did oblige. He was never one to say no, especially to Gojo, despite the act he put up of being constantly irritated with him. As much as Gojo was a pain, having a nice outing together didn’t seem all that suffocating, aside from the scorching heat.
Except when they entered the cafe and saw a girl with short, ginger hair wearing a beige apron beside a girl wearing a green shirt and jeans, with a smile and glasses he recognised. Man, talk about coincidence.
Maki Zen’in turned to face her cousin and his overbearing father, with a grin on her face. “Fushiguro! Crazy seeing you here!”
“Maki-senpai.” Megumi nodded at her, then also nodded at the girl beside her. “What are you doing here?”
“Dammit Fushiguro, what did I tell you about this whole ‘senpai’ bullshit?! Just call me my name.” She rolled her eyes and poked Megumi’s side, who glared at her. “Whatever, I was here to talk to my friend.”
Maki gestured to the girl in the apron. She was shorter than Megumi, but not any less scary, eyeing up Megumi as if to see his connection to Maki.
“Nobara, this is Megumi Fushiguro. Technically my cousin.” Maki faced the girl, Nobara. Megumi glanced at her name card which read Kugisaki
Kugisaki, seeing that the guy seemed no threat to taking Maki away from her grinned. “Oh cool! I’m Kugisaki Nobara, nice to meet you. I’m actually joining Jujutsu High this year, as a third year.” She stuck her hand out.
Megumi glanced down at her outstretched hand but made no intention to reciprocate the hand shake. “A pleasure.”
Kugisaki didn’t seem to like that, huffing as she put her hand down and muttering to Maki something along the lines of ‘emo ass loser.’
The door jingled, indicating someone arriving, and Kugisaki waved at the person.
“Hey, Itadori, over here.” She yelled.
Megumi turned and, lo and behold, stood Itadori. Megumi wanted to hit himself over the head with a shovel and never wake up again. Itadori seemed enthusiastic, as always, and this seemed to grow when he caught Megumi looking.
“Hey guys, Fushiguro! Fancy seeing you again, haha-“ the boy smiled.
He was infuriating.
“Again?” Gojo finally spoke up, glancing back and forth between the two. “When did you guys see each other, hey? Has my dearest Megumi-chan been sneaking out to meet up with friends? Or pretending he’s studying at library?”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Megumi rolled his eyes again; he could only imagine what Gojo was thinking inside that brain. “I was studying at the library when Itadori and I met each other.”
“Wait, wait - “ Itadori placed his hand up, like they were in class. “Gojo-sensei, why are you here?”
Megumi looked at said man, with a look that said ‘oh, nobody would question it? Lying asshole.’
Gojo was unfazed, instead spilling everything to Itadori. “Well you see, Megumi-chan is my child, you know?” He pinched his cheeks, and Megumi shoved him off. “Adopted him when he was a itty bitty baby.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Hush!” Gojo covered Megumi’s face with his abnormally large hands. “Well, I take it that you and him and close friends, hm? Itadori-kun?” Gojo wore a shit-eating grin.
Megumi sighed. “No we’re-“
Before he could continue, and talk about how they weren’t friends, barely even acquaintances, he spotted Itadori and his stupid expectant smile and happiness radiating off of him.
“… I tolerate him.” He settled on, looking to the side. Gojo took it as a win nonetheless, and was very visible happy now.
Ugh. What a pain.
Gojo and Megumi headed to the table closest to the window, and sat opposite each other, where Gojo looked at Megumi with a wide grin.
“So, Itadori,” Gojo started.
“No.”
“Come on! While he’s definitely different to what I would think to be your type-“
“What-! Are you fucking deranged?” Megumi whisper yelled, his face turning red as his head whipped around to glare at Gojo. “Me and him- that’s nothing! At most we’re acquaintances!”
“Mhm. An acquaintance you tolerate.” Gojo clicked his tongue and winked. Megumi attempted to kick his leg under the table, when the subject approached.
“So, what do you guys wanna order?” Itadori wore the same beige apron, and had his already short hair tied into a small, ridiculous ponytail.
“Well, Itadori-kun, I’d like the Kikufuku mochi. Make it extra sweet.” Gojo pointed to the stuffed rice cake.
Itadori wrote it down with a hum then turned to face Megumi, expectantly, eyes boring into him. Megumi cleared his throat.
“The ginger tea. Thanks.” He avoided eye contact.
“Okay!” Itadori sing-songed out. “When it’s done, we’ll call out your table number so come collect it at the counter. Or we can even come give it ourselves.”
“No need!” Gojo grinned. “Megumi-chan will go pick it up.”
Megumi let out a long, deep sigh and glared at the back of the white haired man’s head. Itadori nodded and left.
“You’re infuriating.”
“You love me.”
Megumi rolled his eyes, and opened his phone. Only a week until he would have to head back to school. Only this time, without Tsumiki.
A dark feeling crossed over him. God, that would be so weird, she always stopped him getting in trouble, scolded him yet sat with him at lunch.
Shit, he’d be sitting alone this year, something he hasn’t done since his sister forcefully accompanied him.
He didn’t notice he was glaring at his black phone screen, until Gojo leaned over and then smiled, concern hidden beneath the surface.
“Megumi,” he stretched out the vowels, affectionately. “You good?”
The boy sighed but nodded. “Yeah I- just thinking about Tsumiki.”
Gojo’s eyes flitted up then down to the table and mirrored a sigh. “Yeah, it’ll be tough, kid. But you know, when she wakes up she’ll be more mad when she finds out you just brood all the time.”
“If,” Megumi said back. He looked Gojo in his unnervingly blue and confused eyes. “If she wakes up.”
“She will.”
“Don’t lie. I heard you talking to Ieiri-san about it.” Megumi’s eyes began to burn, with fury or sadness, he didn’t know. “She’s unstable.”
“Megumi-“
“Fushiguro!” Itadori’s voice rang across the cafe, the happy tone breaking the tension between the two. Megumi stood up and went to collect it, before Gojo grabbed his hand.
“We’ll talk about this at home, okay?”
A pause, then Megumi nodded. Itadori waved at his approaching figure.
“Fushiguro,” he was handed a tray carrying Gojo’s diabetes on a platter and Megumi’s tea. “Careful, it’s hot, yeah?”
The concern in Itadori’s voice made Megumi falter, and his stomach churn. He looked down at the hands handing him the tray. Rough yet smooth, steady and, where those scars. They looked like they matched the scars planted on Itadori’s face, not that Megumi was noticing. Definitely not.
Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, Megumi spoke. “The scars. Where are they from?”
“Huh-? Oh! These! Yeah haha- funny story, it’s from my cat.”
“Your cat inflicted these scars on you..?” Megumi looked at Yuuji, incredulously.
Those scars couldn’t have been made by a cat. Surely not?
Itadori laughed warmly, the sound like honey and tea after a cold winters day. “Believe it or not, yeah! My cat, Sukuna. He’s also pink.”
“You named your cat after a historical demon.” Megumi deadpanned.
“In my defence, when I found him I had been studying history like crazy that day, it was the only name I could come up with on the spot so-“
“I guess you were locked in this time.” He deadpanned
“I- haha! Yeah! Oh Fushiguro, who knew you could joke.” Itadori slapped his hand on the counter, causing some customers to look over. Megumi suddenly felt self-conscious, and talked about the demon cat again.
“Wait. How is your cat pink? You dyed it, surely that isn’t safe.”
“No, dude! He was born pink!”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You gotta believe me, dude! I’ll even get a picture of him out. Itadori pulled his phone out, frantically searching a picture. “A-hah!”
He shined his phone into Megumi’s face and there it was. Surely enough, it was a pink cat. Megumi frowned.
He placed a hand on his chin. “Maybe it’s carotenoids. But that wouldn’t make sense, why would a cat’s diet consist of aquatic insects..?”
“Carotenoids? What’s that.”
“In short, it’s food that can turn an animal shades of pink.” Megumi began, unused to actually engaging in conversation with someone for this long so easily. “Take flamingos. Typically flamingos diets consist of foods rich in this, hence the pink colour.”
Silence. Then:
“They aren’t born pink?”
Megumi blinked then rubbed his forehead.
“No, of course not-“
“Megumi-chan~!” Gojo sang. “Stop dilly dallying, my stomach is angry.”
Megumi sighed but obliged, waving back at Itadori. Strange that they’ve met twice now though. Must be a coincidence.
—
The third incident is when Megumi finally drew a conclusion.
Itadori Yuuji was definitely, one hundred percent stalking him. There was no other explanation, despite Megumi trying to look for one.
He had been tired of sent on an errand to deliver something to Ieiri-san (Megumi and Gojo still not addressing what they discussed at the cafe) so he headed out, slipping on his shoes and walking out the door.
He saw pink hair behind him, swerved around, only to be greeted with a very creepy porcelain doll, and continued walking.
Dammit, all I see is Itadori. What’s wrong with me?
He continued on, his bad mood worsened by that realisation, his expression reflecting his mood. Then, he caught sight of Itadori, the actual Itadori, with that stupid grin and the stupid pink hair, beside a wall, almost peeking. Itadori and him locked eyes, waved again, as if this wasn’t weird that they’ve met consecutively in the past few weeks, before he was bashful enough to walk away.
Thus, his conclusion.
If you think about it, it’s perfectly reasonable. See, Megumi can’t possibly be mistaken as a stalker, he’s clearly confused, shaken up, if you may. Itadori on the other hand, could be.
I mean, the first incident, the library. He was suspicious in the way he was peeking out behind the books, yet Megumi brushed him off. Second incident: the cafe. It’s strange in retrospect that Itadori arrived after them two, rather than prior. And now, when they see each other once again, Itadori doesn’t question it. In fact, he was already there, which could be because he had been following Megumi. Shit, did he have a tracker?!
God, gut instincts. I knew something was up, that’s why my stomach kept acting up around Itadori. Megumi told himself.
This theory was only reinforced more into his brain the next day.
It was drizzling, the sky grey with despair and the sun was nowhere to be seen. Megumi stared out of the car window, music playing in his ears. Ijichi, the chauffeur Gojo had hired, was driving and stopped outside the hospital.
“Fushiguro-kun, we’re here.” Ijichi turned towards Megumi, with that smile that always had an underlying hint of anxiety etched in it.
Megumi nodded and left, thanking Ijichi before heading inside the hospital. The hospital was nothing special, Gojo insisted on going private with Shoko but alas treating a patient you’re familiar with is strongly advised against.
Megumi walked in, immediately hit with the overwhelming scent of disinfectant that he’s become oh so used to. The lady at the front desk greeted him warmly and pointed him towards Room 44. Megumi nodded back and headed there.
There she was, lying unmoving in the hospital bed with her eyes closed as usual. Megumi took a seat next to Tsumiki and took her hand in his. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just basking in it. The music box lay next to her, untouched. His hands traced the rim of it and he let out a sigh.
He didn’t say anything, he never did. He knew deep down she’d never hear it, and that always stung him. Megumi thought about Tsumiki, and how she wanted to explore the world. They were going to go on a trip, they’d planned it, after all their studies were done, they’d go together. Megumi wasn’t sure she’d even be alive awake by then yet.
He started to speak quietly, indecipherable murmurs escaped his mouth and he just talked about whatever came to mind. His heart clenched as his mouth kept moving and he didn’t realise how tightly he had been holding her hand.
He remembered the first day they went to visit Tsumiki. Gojo brought him and Megumi sat by her side for god knows how long. Gojo had to pry a stubborn Megumi away from her side.
After a while, Megumi gathered his things, smoothed over her forehead and placed a small kiss on it. Tsumiki would probably have teased him for it if she saw it.
He left the room, gently closing the door and headed towards the elevator.
“Fushiguro!”
Megumi’s footsteps stilled.
No. No fucking way.
Megumi forced his expression back to his usual deadpan stare as he turned around and was greeted with a familiar face he’s been seeing all too often recently.
“Itadori.” He nodded curtly, not willing to engage any further with the other.
“Fushiguro! What a crazy coincidence! What are you doing here, man?” He swung his arm around Megumi’s shoulders, who looked visibly displeased at the contact.
“I could ask the same to you.”
Itadori waved him off with a laugh that was ever so present when engaging in conversation with him. “It’s nothing too serious, haha, you don’t even gotta worry about it—“
“Are you stalking me?” Megumi deadpanned.
Itadori choked.