Chapter Text
And once you get in my ear
I see kismet sinking in
It's second nature
If Yuuji had to trace it all the way back, he would have to admit that it kind of started with a rather stupid question – even though it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass until he almost forgot it had ever been asked. And also, that it was really all his fault – for feeling like socializing and knocking down a couple of drinks after his last midterm exam was finally finished. It went something like this:
Friday night, few weeks ago
“Sooo, what are those so-called situationships I keep hearing about in the halls?”
“Huh?”
He lifts his head from where it was resting on the tabletop for a good amount of time.
“Situationships, Yuuji-kun. The ones all of you, young souls, are supposedly participating in?” Gojo's utterly sunny voice finally cuts through the fog in Itadori's mind. The science professor at his uni (and, privately, a lifelong nuisance to his flatmate’s being) narrows his eyes as if trying to remember something. There’s even a hand rubbing his chin like he’s truly deep in thought. “Actually, I heard one student call them women's true hell the other day, I think!”
Itadori blinks a couple of times, trying to buy some time and reorient himself. Where is Nobara and why is one of his professors, of all people, sitting next to him in her place on a bar stool? Not that he dislikes him; in fact, Yuuji admires the off-the-wall personality Gojo is known for. But why is he asking him about situationships of all things? And what is he doing in a student bar on the weekend? Isn’t it a little weird? It is, right?
Oh my god, Itadori whispers under breath. His eyes widen at sudden realization – Gojo’s probably trying to spy on Megumi again. Fortunately, he’s back home revising for his oral exam. He turns back to the older man, trying to school his face into complete obliviousness, and focuses on Fushiguro’s eccentric guardian, planning on uncovering Gojo’s new slimy scheme. He can’t let his best friend down.
“Now wait a minute. Why are you here, Gojo-san?” He throws an accusationary finger in the general direction of an older man’s face. “Or, better, why are we talking about this? Don’t you have literally anyone else to ask about it?”
The smile on the other man's face turns a little worrisome. Shit, Yuuji thinks. Did he unknowingly dig another hole for himself?
“Well, you are kind of an expert in this department, aren’t you, Yuuji-kun?”
If he wasn’t blinking rapidly already, he would start now. He can feel his face getting flushed and his hands sweaty under Gojo’s unsettling gaze. Is it… amusement he sees in those eyes? “And besides, Megumi-chan still hasn’t unblocked my number after the whole seal sanctuary fiasco.”
Yuuji winces at the memory of soaked wet Fushiguro almost tearing their door out of hinges when he got back home that afternoon. It took three helpings of Yuuji’s famous banana bread with ice cream on the side to chase away the murderous intentions from his mind. He still, five weeks later, tries not to mention Gojo’s name around him…
The sudden sound of glass breaking somewhere in the back of the bar shakes Itadori out of his own mind.
“What do you mean, an expert? I don’t really understand what you’re getting at here–”
Cracking laughter cuts him off. Before he has time to continue his defence (although Yuuji truly isn’t sure what the hell they are talking about and, therefore, what he’s even defending himself from), Gojo goes on in that light, care-free tone of his.
“Oh, but you do know what I mean, silly! I was under the impression that you and my sweet little boy were in one, right?”
“In one what?” Yuuji asks slowly, at his wits’s end. He frowns. “Seal sanctuary?”
Gojo has to actually hide his guffaws in elbow now. Itadori can just stare. He feels like there’s a bullet train going at full speed towards him and he’s just watching it in slow-motion, frozen to the spot. He takes a small sip from his glass – he doesn’t remember the name of the drink, but it’s in a light shade of pink Nobara thought to be hilariously close to his actual haircolor.
“Oh, you are one proper jokester!” The unexpected smack to Itadori’s back knocks the wind out of him. “I’m talking about the situationship-relationship you two’ve got going on, obviously!” His blood runs cold. “So, what’s the rules? Is that like courting someone in an old-fashioned way, with respecting, I don’t know, some vows of celibacy? Because I was thinking about it the other day, and you should know, Yuuji-kun, that you two really don’t have to wait for the wedding night. Really, you guys in this generation are a bit too prudish!”
The ice cold horror paralyses him. Yuuji doesn’t register whatever tirade Gojo goes on after that initial blow.
His (very small, unnoticeable, totally not overgrowning in last months–and did he mention how tiny it was? Because it’s really petite, poco and all!) crush was supposed to be between him and his ceiling that he fixates on when Yuuji’s mind spirals late at night. It was that way for a good couple of months. Megumi, sleeping behind his wall, and his eyes on the dark void of the ceiling, yearning for something so far out of his reach he usually didn’t dare to fully envision it, only letting it burn a hole somewhere deep in his chest.
When he finally finds his voice back, he can tell he was quiet for a second too long. He forces his expression into a strained imitation of his I’m-so-normal-right-now face.
“Gojo-san, I fear we’re all in one, big misunderstanding.” He squeezes the glass in his hands harder. “The thing is, Meg–Fushiguro and I, we’re friends, besties of friends, actually!” A nervous giggle escapes his throat. The burning sensation on the back of his neck along with alcohol circulating in his blood almost makes him nauseous. “And to answer your question, a situationship is– well, I don’t know a dictionary definition, I don’t think there even is one… But! It’s like dating someone but with no strings attached, you know? Like people do it because there’s no commitment, so it’s convincingly casual? I think?” He gulps quite loudly. “Well, I’ve never actually been in one so I’m not sure–” Another giggle interrupts his rumbling. “Not sure, why would you think that we–”
“Oh, I don’t know, Itadori-kun, had to be my stellar observation skills.” Gojo interjects, locking his hawk-like eyes on him. “You’re not slick as you think you are! But don't worry your pretty little head. Gojo-sensei came to your rescue and he’s gonna be the greatest wingman in the history of humankind!”
Yuuji gulps again. It’s going to be a lot harder than he thought it would be – selling his half-baked excuse to Gojo-sensei. And why on earth is it happening to him when he’s tipsy?
“No, you don’t understand–” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his own galloping heart. “We’re not romantically– like anything. At all. We’re friends! Just friends.”
Gojo doesn’t even stop to blink before asking, “So you don’t like my son?”
“Of course I like him!” Itadori stutters and blushes even more because, of course, that’s just his luck. Go out for a casual drink and end up somehow blabbing out his best kept secret.
He can feel himself going into a panic mode, which is never a good sign. The alcohol he consumed probably messes up his brain even further because the next thing he hears coming out of his own mouth is, “like I love him! A lot! He’s my best friend so obviously I–”
“Mhm, and is that the same kind of love you have for our dear Kugisaki-chan? Hmm?” Gojo sounds smooth as hell.
“I–well–ymm–” Can he just run off or will it be a bit too rude? And what if Megumi’s adoptive father is actually onto him? Will he reveal the truth to Fushiguro just for shit and giggles? “Maybe– I mean– let’s not–”
Gojo finally takes pity on him and pulls him out of his pathetic stammering misery.
“Yuuji, calm down, I’m not gonna do anything.” He says as if he’s reading Itadori’s mind. It’s kind of scary. He puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I mean, if you’re worried about my blessing, you should know that I am willing to trade it in exchange for the role of your wedding planner. I’m thinking pink flowers, like lilies, peonies for reception and–”
This time, it’s Itadori who cuts the other man off mid sentence. He can’t help himself; he needs to know this.
“Do you–do you think Fushiguro knows too? Am I this–that obvious?”
Gojo gives him a real smile. Or Yuuji believes he does. “Megumi? That silly goose? Of course not.” He squeezes his shoulder. “He’s exactly as clueless as you are.”
Itadori knits his brows. “What do you mean, exactly like me?”
“See? Clueless! Anyways, Itadori-kun, why haven't you made a move yet?” He narrows his eyes and flicks Yuuji on the forehead. “Is it likely because you don’t think your feelings are reciprocated?”
Well, he’s right, it’s part of why, but Itadori doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. He scrambles away from the unhinged professor as he rubs his hand on his forehead. He just has to make sure Gojo won’t spill the beans to Fushiguro, find Nobara so he can go home and sleep like a log for ten hours straight. Oh, and never think about this weird talk ever again. It’s such a doable and simple plan.
“I really don’t think we should be having this conversation right now–I appreciate the concern though!” Itadori tries to get back on track. “It’s not really that big of a deal. And I’m handling the situation quite well as you’ve just confirmed!” He’s so back. “Cause I don’t plan on, like, confessing my love–” Oh, it is so over. He grimaces at the words that just left his stupid big mouth. “Or anything. I value our friendship way too much to risk losing him–”
“Yuuji, Yuuji, my dear boy.” Gojo tuts disapprovingly. “And what if there’s a slight chance that he likes you back? Do you really think that Megumi, of all people, would confess his feelings to anyone? That gob of pent-up emotions?”
“… What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing!” He exclaims with hands up. They come to rest at the back of his neck. “Just that I never would’ve thought you’ll be the one to chicken out!”
“Hey! I’m not chickening out–” What the hell? He was supposed to get back in the game, not get Gojo to start insulting him.
“Oh, but you are. Wimping out like you’re a real coward!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No–”
“So what are you going to do about your situation? Haha, I guess it’s really not a ship one.”
“I– Well, I don’t know what I should do.” Yuuji lowers his head. He’s convinced himself a long time ago there’s no way Megumi secretly harbours romantic feelings for him.
“Let me help you then, Yuuji-kun.” Gojo’s expression turns into a rare sobriety. “You have a right to be as happy as you can be just like everyone else does, you know?”
Yuuji stops picking at his cuticles and lifts his head. “What would you even do? To help?”
Gojo crosses his arms and dangerously tips back on the barstool.
“Let’s just say that I’m going to create a certain situation.”
“What kind of situation?”
“I can’t tell or it’ll spoil a surprise! But it won’t be anything bad, I promise. You trust me, don’t you, Yuuji-kun?”
He knows he shouldn’t. Basically everyone knew not to – under no circumstances, no matter how desperate you are – take any love advice from Gojo Satoru, as if it were one of few certainties in life. But, unfortunately, Yuuji has been drunk on love for a long time now (and, okay, a little bit intoxicated from those colorful drinks he's been sipping on the whole night, but whatever). So, he simply nods and tries not to panic too much as sparks of madness appear in freakishly pale eyes.
☾☼☽
Monday morning, now
There is a tiger.
Or, Megumi is hallucinating one lying lazily on the carpet of his stupid guardian’s carpet. Well, it’s rather a tiger cub by the size of it, to be exact. Its fur seems so fluffy and its color is on a warmer side of orange with dark stripes cutting through it. A classic tiger’s look, you could say.
For a moment Megumi debates turning on his heel and walking out of this hellhole of a house altogether. He’ll go back home, take advantage of Yuuji being out running some errands and mop the floors. And then he could make a cup of tea, sit on their tiny balcony and finish that book he had started a couple of weeks ago, before the exams really kicked in and beat his ass. But the eyes of the tiger are big, roundish and brown, reminding him of similar ones he knows the shade of by heart, so he decides to stay in place.
“Hello?” he calls out, already anticipating no answer. The apartment is uncharacteristically quiet; it seems like albino idiot really left a fucking wild cat alone in his living room and it’s not a feverish dream. Truly, why is this my life?, Megumi ponders as he and the tiger continue to eye each other across the room.
His phone starts vibrating like it’s on a cue and when he sees Gojo’s dumb face on the screen he has to fight the impulse to just block him once more. But the tiger is still lying on its back five feet away from him and it looks like it won’t vanish into thin air. So, with a deep sigh he always has to release before any conversation with Gojo, he answers his call.
“There is a tiger. Why is there a fucking tiger in your living room?” He demands as soon as they connect. “Where are you? What happened to ‘the turbo ultra important mandatory bonding time’?” He makes quotation marks in the air even though he’s alone. Okay, kind of alone.
“Well, good morning to you too, my precious cub!” Megumi clenches his fists. “So you’ve met my other precious cub!”
“Oh my god, you’ve finally lost your fucking mind,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Watch your language, young man!” The pure glee in Gojo’s voice immediately riles him further up. If not for a living and breathing tiger in the same room as him, Megumi would probably throw a shoe or two at a stupidly huge TV – as reparations for dealing with all of Gojo’s shit. “The tiger baby is listening to you!”
“What the fuck?”, he says under his breath.
“Aaanyways, I’m gonna have to ask you to take care of it, Megu–”
“No,” he cuts in immediately. “Absolutely not. Get back in here so I can go back home.”
“Hah… it would be a little difficult, because, haha, you see, I’m on a bullet train right now–”
“Like hell you are.” One of his hands finds a way to his hair and pulls. He can feel Gojo-induced migraine starting to form – he knows the feeling all too well.
“Yes, I indeed am, it’s that conference I texted you about last week! You surely remember that, because you read all the texts your ever-loving father sends to you, right, Megumi?” He asks a rhetorical question both of them know the answer to in an annoyingly sing-song tone.
Megumi swallows down the automatic ‘You’re not my father’ remark because he’s really ought to focus on more pressing matters right now.
“Shut up. Come back here, asshole, I don’t give a single fuck about your stupid confe–” the tiger stirs suddenly and starts moving towards him. Megumi freezes, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He can only look helplessly as a wild cat starts nuzzling his leg. Something clicks in the back of his mind. “Wait, is it domesticated?”
“He is–it’s a boy! Do you really think I could’ve left a completely wild animal with you?”
Yes, Megumi answers in his head. It’s even in his exasperated tone, usually reserved for Gojo (and, sometimes, for Yuuji when he tries to sneak another Human Earthworm 3 rewatch into their movie night. He shakes his head just thinking about it. God, it truly is the worst one of those astrosities.)
“Don’t worry, Megumi, it’s completely harmless.” Gojo adds when he doesn’t reply. “You can pet him all you like, he’s such a sweet creature, I almost adopted him myself!”
Megumi cautiously puts his hand in front of the tiger's muzzle. It–well, he looks at it before he nudges it with his head.
“What is his name?” Megumi asks in a gentle voice, rubbing behind tiger’s ear.
“He doesn’t have one yet! But I’ve been calling him your name since you’re the only son I’ve ever had.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
Tiger looks up at him, as if he’s also wondering what kind of imbecile human boy next to him is talking to.
“Okay, think of one yourself then. Or better! Ask Yuuji-kun so the baby won’t end up with some sad serious adult name like Bill or Richard, or even worse, Ronald!”
“Are you just listing off random English names?”
“No, I’m listing off some names of the most hellish American presidents.”
Megumi blinks. “Okay,” he blinks some more, for good measure. “When are you getting back? Seriously though.”
The tiger flops down onto the floor and Megumi sits down beside him. He sets the phone down after putting Gojo on the speaker and strokes the soft fur on his belly.
“Not for the whole week. I’ve combined this conference with a national park trip! Haven’t been to Hokkaido in ages–”
“The fuck am I supposed to do with a tiger for a whole week, Gojo? Are you actually hearing yourself?” Megumi’s too tired to even properly sharpen his voice; all there’s left is weary resignation. He can’t believe this man is trusted with paying taxes and has rights to vote when he’s a caricature of a grown-up person.
Gojo, oblivious to Megumi's internal turmoil, goes on. “I’m sure you’ve already covered bringing-up tiger babies in one of your classes!” He didn’t, of course, why would he be learning about exotic animals cubs in the first year of his veterinary program? “And it’s not a full-on babysitting gig. I just need you to take it to its new caretaker, well, I was supposed to do it myself, but life happened, so now the task has been passed down to you, my young padawan.”
“Take it where?” He furrows his brows. “To who? Is it even legal–”
“To my dear old friend down in Tokushima! I’ve emailed you the details earlier. Don’t fret, she’s an actual vet, even specializes in wild cats and all that fun jazz. She runs this rescue thing, I’ve already called her up and told her you’ll be bringing our kitten to her.”
“You already called–” Megumi pauses. “Wait, I don’t have a car. Or a driver’s license in that matter. Gojo, are you really stupid?”
He hears a not-so-subtle snicker coming from a speaker. “Megumi, you’re one smart cookie, I’m sure you’ll figure it out! I know at least one person who owns a vehicle in your orbit!”
His left hand, still occupied with caressing tiger’s fur, slacks off. The audacity of this man. “I am not–”
“Well, you’ll have to! Make a date out of it! Follow your heart and all that shtick!” His guardian’s voice starts coming in distorted as he starts giving him those weird, cryptic messages. “Cause–to a tunnel–losing signal. You’ve–kid. Say hi to Yuu–”
And the line cuts off just like that. The only sounds reverberating through the empty room are tiger’s quiet purring and the restless tapping of Megumi’s fingers on the surface of his phonescreen. He looks at the wild cat for a good couple of minutes before he accepts the inevitability of his fate and dials his best friend’s number.
☾☼☽
Yuuji sways on his heels as he waits for Megumi to open the door. To be honest, he understood very little from his friend’s earlier rant but it sounded like this time Gojo went a little overboard with his usual teasing of Fushiguro. He also said something about some cat and not-freaking-out when Itadori gets there in gaps of swearing at his irreformable guardian. But, most importantly, he said that he needs Itadori’s help. And the rarity of such a scenario had him bolting out of late lunch with Choso and Yuki-san at lightspeed.
He wonders what could be wrong since his flatmate is the most self-sufficient person he’s ever met. When they moved in together, he used to scowl at Yuuji for making him a cup of morning coffee for two whole months before accepting this simplest of gestures. So, yeah, it’s got to be a really pressing issue.
Personally, Yuuji considers himself adequately experienced in all kinds of emergency situations – not even a month ago, he helped Nobara’s with her hair saloon’s defective fire protection system when it began randomly leaking from the ceiling straight onto her new upholstered chairs. She was supposed to give him at least three free appointments but they still hadn’t gotten around to it. Maybe he should call her up later today since he’s free from the exam session hell.
He’s just about to pull out his phone and record a voice message when Megumi finally cracks open the door. Yuuji smiles unwittingly even though he can only see a slip of his friend’s face. It looks like the bags under his eyes have darkened in a few hours since they’d eaten breakfast together. “Hi, Fushiguro! So what’s the problem?”
Megumi grunts in lieu of greeting him. Every now and then he communicates through grunts, sighs and looks loaded with different levels of annoyance instead of actual spoken words so Itadori takes it as confirmation of Gojo going way too far once again. Should he bake him a carrot cake once they get back home later? They’ve probably got all needed ingredients stocked in their fridge…
The look in Megumi’s eyes makes Yuuji smile a bit wider as he shoulders past his friend. He takes off his shoes, neatly puts them down in genkan and budges to move forward when he hears the click of the front door lock.
“You know, I’ve never actually been in here. Oh, is that you and your sister?” He points at a picture hanging on the wall and doesn’t wait for the answer. “So adorable! Good to know you’ve had that grumpy air about you since you were a kid!”
A hand at his sweatshirt’s collar pulls him away before he can take a closer look at all the other photographs adorning the hallway. He pouts a little but doesn’t argue with Fushiguro when he’s clearly on edge. “Itadori, have you not been listening to me earlier? We’ve got an emergency here.”
“Of course I was listening, but you’ve also called Gojo-san a lot of names and that’s what kinda stuck with me to be honest– that and a bit about a cat–”
“Not a cat. There’s a fucking tiger’s cub in that room,” he points behind himself. Yuuji cracks a laugh; damn, he never thought Fushiguro could pull off a prank! “I’m not joking.”
“You’re not?” Yuuji’s smile pulls at his cheeks.
“No,” Megumi deadpans.
“Really?” The disbelief is clear as a day in his voice. Megumi huffs out a breath and wraps a hand around his wrist, dragging Itadori with him. He doesn’t let go even when they come to a stop in front of the wooden door.
“Don’t freak out, okay? He’s kind of domesticated? Don’t ask me how or why, but he shouldn't, like, throw himself at you.”
Okay, either he’s actually good at pranking (he does have a great poker face when he wants to, Yuuji notes) or Gojo’s got himself into the field of illegal pets. One of those options is more plausible.
“Itadori?” He snaps his head to him from where he has been unconsciously staring at their still joined hands. Not that he minds. Fushiguro’s fingers are long and slim, closing tightly around his wrist. It feels as if his hand’s been chiselled to rest right there. But once Megumi notices the line of his sight, he instantly drops his hand, like he actually forgot he was holding it in the first place. Maybe he did, Yuuji thinks, and maybe he could forget that once again sometime in the near future… That would be nice.
“Yeah?”
“You good?”
“Yes, no jumping up and down in the presence of the cat with big fangs, don’t worry, I got it!” He lifts his hands up into the air, trying to make the wrinkle between Megumi’s brows go away.
Fushiguro shakes his head (were the tips of his ears pink earlier as well?, Yuuji wonders), murmuring something that sounds distinctly like ‘not a cat’ under his breath and opens the door at last.
So, this is no joke indeed, Itadori thinks to himself.
In the swarm of feathers on white sheets of the gigantic bed there is a real, small tiger pawing and biting at Gojo’s fancy pillows. He pays them no mind, too preoccupied with snarling at the feathers fluttering around him.
“Aww, look, it’s just a little baby!”
Yuuji takes one eager step forward before there’s a firm hand on his arm.
“It could be gnawing at your head instead of a stupid pillow.”
“Okay, but he’s not,” Itadori reasons, “and didn’t you just say it’s domesticated?”
Hesitation is showing through the cracks on the unreadable mask of Megumi’s face. His hand frees Yuuji’s arm. “Fine. But be careful, let him sniff your hand before you start pat–”
“I know, I know,” he waves a dismissive hand at his friend. “Besides, I’m probably a secret tiger’s whisperer or something anyway.”
“What?”
“You know, since my childhood nickname has been Tiger of– wait, haven't I already told you that?”
There’s a pause in their conversation so, just as he’s about to put his hand in front of this adorable little nose, Yuuji turns back to Fushiguro, whose face looks like he’s in physical pain. He sends a quizzical stare Megumi’s way.
“Sorry, I almost forgot for a moment that I’m dealing with another idiot here.”
“Don’t be mean, Fushiguro! You had that silly junior high nickname too. You told me about it!”
“Keep your mouth shut,” he leans on a doorway with hands crossed on his chest.
Itadori smiles to himself and focuses back on the cub eyeing him curiously.
“Hi there, tiny one,” he coos, crouching in front of the bed so he’s on eyelevel with the wild cat. “What is a little baby like you doing here on this fine afternoon?”
The tiger rubs his head eagerly on his hand but Itadori halts all his motions.
“Wait, Fushiguro, why is there a tiger baby in your dad's house?”
He hears a sigh behind him. “Glad it took you only like five minutes to ask the obvious question. Your thinking skills are getting better day by day.”
Yuuji pouts a little. Realistically, he knows that there’s no heat behind Megumi’s words but it still makes him wonder if he really comes off as a plain fool in his friend’s eyes. His gaze is always so closed off, Itadori hardly ever manages to muscle his way under it. He sits on the edge of the comforter and scratches under the tiger's chin. The cub puts one little paw on his thigh in return.
“I’m guessing it’s Gojo’s fault and all, but where is he? Did he just throw a tiger tucked into a blanket at you and run off?”
The corners of Megumi’s mouth curl downward. “No, the dipshit was already gone when I got here.”
“So… what exactly happened?” Yuuji asks in that careful tone he usually uses when the topic of Gojo's latest shenanigans comes up in their conversations.
Fushiguro’s silent for a long time, staring off into space so Itadori’s presumes he’s silently cooking up another fierce rant but eventually he shakes his head and sits on the other side of the tiger, sending a bunch of feathers flying around. He buries hand in the soft fur on his back and gets around to explaining the mess his father’s got him into.
☾☼☽
“So this little thing doesn’t even have a name?”
“Is that your main concern right now?”
“Well imagine being nameless, Fushiguro! And how will we look for him if he gets lost when we can’t even call out his name? Had Gojo really not given him a nickname or something?”
An emotion resembling true agony flickers on Megumi’s face.
“Name him yourself if it bothers you so much. It’s not like we’re going to deal with him for too long.”
“We should come up with something together! Brainstorm ideas!” Yuuji cups the tiger's face and studies it closely. (Sometime, during Fushiguro’s recounting of his phone call, he clambered onto his lap to take a nap here. Yuuji definitely wasn’t close to tears because of that.) “Who does he look like to you? Hmm… he’s too pure at heart to be the next Shere Khan for sure…”
Fushiguro huffs out annoyed breath. “He looks like a tiger to me.”
“Are you referencing Winnie the Pooh’ Tigger or just refusing to use your imagination?”
“I’m stating the simple fact.”
Yuuji purses his lips, “You’re no fun.”
Megumi merely shrugs in response. Itadori continues to rack his brain, trying to remember any other famous tigers, but comes up empty handed besides the Pink Panther. And that clearly isn’t even a tiger.
He sits upright when a sudden brilliant thought appears in his head.
“Wait, I have an idea! Let’s call him Shark! So that he'll be a literal tiger shark!”
Fushiguro’s mouth twists into a grimace.
“C’mon, you’ve got to admit, it’s pretty cool! Our little baby tiger Shark.” Itadori pets the tiger on his head. “Do you like your new name, Sharky boy?”
“You’re already coming up with diminutives?”
Yuuji laughs loudly when Shark starts licking his hand. “Yeah, we’ll need them! You ought to talk to babies, right?”
Megumi looks conflicted as he just stares at the other boy. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair, ruining their order even further than before. He looks unsure when he asks, “So you’ll help me?”
“Of course.”
Megumi looks startled at his immediate answer. Yuuji huffs internally, annoyed at his friend’s incredulity. Like there could ever be any other option; like there was an universe where he calls and Yuuji’s not at his door instantly.
“But it will probably take more than one day to get there. And we’ll have to hide an unregistered, probably illegal wild animal in your car. You should think it through, Ita–”
“Well, yeah, I know, but think about the adventure! Two best friends, an open road ahead of them and a baby tiger between them!”
Fushiguro still looks unconvinced.
“Plus, I kind of wanna know if that old thing can even make it to the highway in one piece…” Yuuji trails off, mentally listing all the things he has to check in his old Toyota truck before they hit the road. He’s gonna have to call Yuki-san and ask about coming in for a quick oil change after her shift… Oh, and this one random control light has been flushing red for a while now which is not a good sign for certain…
Itadori tears himself out of his train of thought. Fixing up his car has to wait until his gloomy friend actually accepts his company on the mission.
“And it’s not like you have any other option! Yuuta-senpai is not lending you his and Maki-san new car when you haven't got a license! She would probably have him skinned for it,” he says with a bright smile on his face. Shark purrs, which Yuuji takes as him agreeing with his point.
Fushiguro rolls his eyes. “Obviously, Itadori. I’m not insane.”
He pulls up Shark’s paw and waves it at Megumi. “C’mon, Fushiguro, let’s make a road trip out of it! I’ve always wanted to go on one. Just like in those old Hollywood movies!”
His friend sighs and shakes his head with arms still crossed but doesn’t open his mouth to argue again. Yuuji immediately smiles up at him because he knows that means the other boy’s already been coaxed into agreeing.