Archive of Our Own

Gojo clapped his hands. "Okay, now that we're here, it's time for the Ultra-special-super-fun-Okinawa secret mission to begin!"

Megumi pulled on his stifling collar. In his usual manner, Gojo didn't bother explaining why they needed to pack their bags the evening before – only that they should "pack light".

The black kariyushi shirt left on his bed that morning should have tipped him off to what was in store for them, and yet Haneda Airport was the last thing Megumi had expected to see when they got out of Ijichi's car.

The flight to Okinawa had been bearable, with Megumi making up shapes in the clouds or watching the landscape from the small window for the most part. His legs cramped from the lack of space, and Gojo kept putting his elbow on the armrest that was clearly Megumi's, but nothing too excruciating.

The true hell had risen once they arrived, greeted by a record-breaking heatwave at their destination.

A bead of sweat trickled down Megumi's nose as he looked up, the high sun blasting through the glass facade to blind him. The cheap electric fan he bought three hours ago had died the moment they deboarded, forsaking him to the stuffy, dry airport air.

And yet, it would be nothing compared to the pain of having to live through all while actively searching for the curse that actually brought them here.

Megumi scrunched his nose. Is it a curse, or–

"Fun?" Itadori yawned. Carrying the bulk of their baggage, he set the beach umbrella and the foldable chair on the polished concrete. "What's so fun about exorcising curses in this heat?"

"Oh, I never said anything about exorcising." Gojo lowered his voice and huddled them into a small square by the window wall. "Your purpose for this trip is to look for them. We've been given reports about strange things happening around the Naminoue Beach that might–or might not–be related to curse activity. You're here to find out which one is correct."

"Our purpose?" Kugisaki shifted on her feet. "And what about you, huh?"

Gojo grinned, adjusting his chinstrap hat. "I'll supervise from the sides, since there's a high chance whatever is there will disappear as soon as it senses Satoru Gojo's presence."

"So… that's the secret mission? It sounds pretty standard to me." Itadori tilted his head. "I thought we'd be fighting something real bad. Like a Grade One, at least."

"What type of Grade One curse needs an umbrella and a chair to get exorcised, do you think?" Megumi said.

The strap of the bag slid down his shoulder, revealing a wet stain. The snarky remark was less about insulting Itadori, and more about pushing him towards Megumi's direction of thought without outright saying it.

The short notice and abrupt orders were nothing new in sorcerer work, but the plans tended to be fairly straightforward – protect the non-sorcerers, locate the curse, and kill it. Perhaps run if it's a Special Grade, and you're not Satoru Gojo.

Throughout his entire experience at the college, Megumi had never heard of a mission where sorcerers were sent to inspect such a public place without the proper preparations. Sure, they could set up a barrier, but it wouldn't fix the other problems arising from having civilians on the perimeter. If Megumi recognized the oddness of the plan, Gojo had to see it too.

The question was, why did he go along with it, despite that?

You got this, Itadori.

"I don't know–a paleness curse, maybe?"

He almost got it.

"Now, now, Yuji, don't be rude." Gojo flicked Itadori's nose playfully. "You're talking about Megumi's dear friend."

Itadori covered his mouth and snorted, but a glare from Megumi cut his joy short before it landed on Gojo, "As if you were any tanner."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it–you're both pale. Can we speed up a bit?" Kugisaki poked her tongue into her cheek and wiped a bead of sweat off her temple.

"The secret part of this mission is none other than us, Yuji," Gojo said. "Getting all the permits to close the beach would take too long, and we need to act fast. So… we're going undercover! Today, we're not jujutsu sorcerers, but rather Uncle Gojo and his three nephews. Each from a different sister."

Megumi exchanged a perplexed look with Kugisaki, while Itadori bounced on his tiptoes in excitement.

Again with the all-but-convenient reasoning. Either Gojo had exaggerated the threat level of the mission, or there was something else going on that he wouldn't let on. If the situation were as dire as he had made it out to be, Jujutsu High would have no qualms about forgoing the paperwork and getting straight to business.

"So that's what the dumb shirts were for?" Kugisaki asked, breaking eye contact. "To blend in with the crowd?"

"Hey, they're not dumb. I like mine and Fushiguro's." Itadori said, wearing a matching hibiscus-adorned shirt, the only difference being its bright red color against Megumi's black and Gojo's blue.

"Yes, that's what they were for." Gojo sighed, feigning disappointment. "And for the record, I am deeply disappointed that you didn't wear yours, Nobara."

"No thanks, I don't really feel like matching with your bunch." Kugisaki pulled the sleeves of her normal, non-flowery top down to her shoulders. "Trust me, mine will do."

Gojo slid the sunglasses up. Extending his arms, his knuckles gave a slight crack as he flexed them. "Fine. And now that we established everything–"

He left one arm outstretched and spread his fingers. Itadori was the first to place his palm over Gojo's, sparkling eyes darting between the other two as if to encourage them. Kugisaki followed after, mumbling to get this over with already and slapping her hand on top of Itadori's.

With a hundred questions on his mind, and no answers, Megumi was the last to place his palm on the pile – and when he did, he promised himself to get to the bottom of all of them.

"Secret mission–" Gojo dragged the last syllable. They raised their hands in the air and dropped them. "Begin!"

After getting out of the crammed cab, they strolled down the concrete stairs to arrive at Naminoue Beach. Megumi never cared for swimming in the overcrowded sea like a bunch of fish in a can, but the view by itself brought a certain calmness that made the travel worth it.

The cold sea air washed over Megumi in brief relief from the smoldering sun, carrying the clean, earthy scent of the saltwater. Slow waves pulled the water to the shore and back, reflecting sparkles of sunshine across the blue surface. Hot sand swept over his feet as they trudged forward, following the edge of the beach while people around cast curious looks.

Megumi swept his eyes over the place. Most of the people lying on the beach or playing in the water were adults with smaller children. Only a couple were around his age. Gojo's great plan to fit in with the locals might have worked on the weekend, but not on a Wednesday afternoon, when they should be off at school. A normal one.

Thankfully, the beach seemed big enough for them to drag the curse far away, set up a barrier, and exorcise it without anyone noticing – though with Gojo around, he could teleport it to somewhere more secluded. But that's assuming the curse did exist, because the longer this secret mission went on, the more Megumi grew sceptical of the true intent behind dragging them here.

Gojo's lack of hurry certainly didn't help to ease his suspicions.

"What a beautiful day!" He hummed in beat with his steps, swirling the umbrella. Once they passed the halfway mark of the beach, Gojo halted and dropped his backpack on the ground. "Alright, I think here will work."

He stuck the umbrella in the sand. A surge of Cursed Energy jolted through the air, raising goosebumps on Megumi's skin. The umbrella gave a twitch under Gojo's hold, and without him doing anything, it dug deeper into the hole.

"Show-off." Kugisaki scoffed.

The three of them followed suit and stacked their bags on top of Gojo's. He told them to unpack, whilst he himself made a show of bringing a hand over his eyebrows like an old sailor and staring further down the coastline.

Megumi could hardly hold back an eyeroll as he set up the windbreak around their little area, making sure to keep Gojo and his idiocy out of the boundary.

By the time he was done, Itadori had placed the chair and a single blanket down and moved on to inflating the beach ball, while Kugisaki rummaged through one of the bags with her eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey, quick question." She said, pulling something from the bag. As it turned out, Gojo hadn't stuffed half his wardrobe into his duffel bag. "Are we supposed to fight with… these?"

Kugisaki raised a neon water gun in the air, twirling it by the trigger. Itadori gasped in awe and scrambled to her side, digging out three more to toss at their feet.

"No, that's part of the special training." Gojo stopped his Old Man and the Sea act and turned around. "If the curse does appear, you'll pretend that you're having a water gun fight so non-sorcerers don't get suspicious. We'll practice with me as a target."

…Huh?

Seeing the shared look of excitement between his companions, Megumi knew he was the sole person to see it this training for what it was – which was bullshit. Not just weird aspects that could be more or less logically explained. How the hell did he expect them to pull this off?

Itadori picked up the water gun and gave it a quick spritz. "Sweet."

"I would've brought spare clothes if I knew," Kugisaki said, tying her shirt into a crop top before snatching a weapon of her own.

"You can always use the shirt your teacher picked out for you, you know," Gojo kicked the water gun up into his hands, and slid the sunglasses on top of his head.

"No, I don't think so. Itadori will be my shield."

"Huh? Oh, alright."

Megumi met Gojo's eyes, where a faint glint of amusement egged him on. He stared down at the water gun, but as the image of spending the afternoon in a soggy shirt sank in, Megumi decided he had played along with Gojo's story for long enough.

"I'll watch you from here." Stepping over the water pistol, he settled into the chair. "Non-sorcerers can't see shikigami, so I'll have Divine Dog supporting you guys from the side if anything goes wrong"

Gojo huffed a strained laugh, "Staying behind is so not fun, Megumi."

"You'll live," Megumi said, crossing his legs. Two could play this game.

"Boo," Kugisaki blew him a raspberry and threw a thumbs down, "Ten Shadows my ass. Just say you're too lazy."

Megumi ignored her and reached into his backpack. He pulled out the book he had packed last minute, grateful for Past-Megumi's attention to detail, and opened to where he had bookmarked.

Before he got to read the first three words, a nudge to his scalp broke him away from the page.

Itadori lowered the gun, his puppy stare boring into him, "Everything okay? You never back away from training."

Megumi cursed his boyfriend's sweet naivety to Gojo's antics. Guilt tugged at his chest for making him worry for nothing, but even if he told him the truth, Gojo would surely deny everything to keep up the charade.

Until Megumi figured out what his deal was, keeping his suspicions to himself felt like the safest bet. "Yeah, there's no need for me to do it. Better to have him focus on you two instead."

"Oh, right. That's smart." Itadori's face softened. "Then cheer for me, alright?"

They didn't mourn Megumi's absence for too long.

Gojo grabbed the leftover water gun and bolted towards the water, cackling like a maniac. Itadori and Kugisaki rushed after him, pistols up and yelling orders to each other as if in a real fight. And with how Gojo howled and ducked under their attacks, he very well might have resembled a curse of his own.

Megumi swiped off the sand from his pants and watched them from under the cool shade of the umbrella, a smile tugging on his lips.

As dumb as his lie was, Gojo had taken the fight fairly seriously. He'd shout corrections and hints between laughs as he ran around, one gun pointed at Itadori and the other at Kugisaki.

In fact, he went ahead and made it extra hard by enabling his Infinity whenever either of their shot was about to land. Megumi hoped no one else on the beach had taken notice of how in the world the water seemed to splash a few centimeters before Gojo's face.

Itadori didn't mind the extra challenge. He unleashed streams of water with a bright smile, diving into the sea to refill when his ammunition ran out – and in his typical nature, kept up with Kugisaki's request to be as her shield.

Water soaked his hair, slicking it back to reveal droplets of sweat on his forehead, while his green sunglasses barely held on. The red outer shirt had begun to cling to his body, so he ran back to their spot, ripped it off, and flung it over the umbrella to dry before running away again.

When Megumi caught himself staring for too long, eyes tracing the paths of water trailing down Itadori's skin, he ducked his head and buried his face back into the book.

It was hard to concentrate with all the shouting ahead, but eventually, his heart had calmed down enough to stop reading the same passage for the thirtieth time.

Itadori's face flashed across the text every few pages or so to remind him of what he was missing, but Megumi pushed through it. He needed the distraction to escape the unease crawling up his spine.

Even though everyone back at school knew they were together, Gojo included, Megumi dreaded displaying any affection for Itadori in front of him.

It stemmed less from how Gojo would react – Megumi doubted the man would care about them being gay in public – and more with what he would think if he caught Megumi looking weak, pathetic, and completely whipped.

Megumi couldn't explain it rationally, and the one time he mentioned it to Kugisaki, she said it was normal to feel that way.

"It's like that with seeing your parents kiss, too. Oh. Okay, well, mine are gone too, so what? Imagine that you did still have them, and they kissed in front of you. Gross, right?"

Talking about it with Itadori yielded the same results – if not worse, given that he had never met either of his parents.

"My grandpa would have probably puked seeing us kiss, but not because it's gay. He hated everyone equally."

Fatherless children made sorcerers, not philosophers, apparently.

With no personal experience to draw from, he should have no choice but to take Kugisaki's words as the most likely truth. Since that meant admitting Gojo had filled the role of a parental figure in his life, Megumi chose to disregard them instead. Even an orphan knew better than to insult decent parents by comparing them to Gojo.

In the end, he quietly accepted that expressing his love for Itadori might have belonged solely to the two of them.

"Hey, you here alone?" A raspy voice broke Megumi out of his thoughts.

He looked up from his book. An unfamiliar face stared back at him from behind the windbreak, waving his hand.

Great. So much for blending in with the crowd.

"No, I'm here with my… uncle. And friends," Megumi said, swallowing the shame of calling Gojo that. It would be better to stick to one universal story.

"Man, that sucks." The guy rubbed his neck, grinning like an idiot. "But they're not here right now, are they?"

Megumi raised a brow. "They're nearby. Why?"

At first, Megumi assumed the guy had mistaken him for a rogue student skipping class, but the conversation took a weird turn.

Had someone realized they were sorcerers? That shouldn't be possible even with Gojo's careless use of his technique. The stranger couldn't be one either, with his Cursed Energy spilling out of his body in sloppy waves.

"Shit, I wonder why." He laughed, nudging his chin at Megumi, "What are you reading there?"

"A book."

"Yeah, I noticed. I meant, what book?"

"Ghosts of the Tsunami."

"Right. So, what's it about?"

"A tsunami."

Whatever reason the guy had for bothering him had to be unrelated to anything jujutsu, meaning Megumi had no reason to continue the conversation.

Not that he ever wanted to. Megumi thought the guy would give up after the first dry response, but it seemed he was determined to miss all the not-so-subtle hints to back off.

"Oh, I understand. Playing hard to get? I like it." He reached past the windbreak to urge Megumi closer with his hand. "Look, tsunamis are great and all, but you're by the sea. Why not take a minute to appreciate what's in front of you? I can show you around if you want."

Suddenly, everything made sense.

...That fraud piece of shit.

Megumi had heard it all about scammers preying on innocent people enjoying their holidays, but he never imagined he himself would become a target.

Though, from an objective standpoint, he did pose as the perfect victim – isolated at a beach, not a local, and with Gojo's stupidly expensive bag settled by his feet, seemingly loaded. The guy saw him and thought he could make a quick buck playing a tour guide, but Megumi knew better than to trust shady figures.

"I don't have any money."

The guy cocked his head. "Oh, my tours are free. If you want to pay me back for the kindness, you can do it some other way."

"I didn't take my card either. Sorry." Flipping the page, Megumi turned back to the book, positive that was the end of it.

Take that, prick. Surely the scum of the earth wouldn't pull a cheque out of his ass.

"It's not about the money."

The black lines of text smudged. Before Megumi could react, the guy snatched the book out of his hands and dangled it in the air.

Megumi closed his eyes, the urge to grab the umbrella and shove it into a place the guy wouldn't want an umbrella to be in clawing at him.

He stretched his hands out wide, then relaxed, drawing in a breath. By all means, he should beat the shit out of him for being a bad person. Perhaps a good punch or two in the jaw would teach him to treat others with respect he would like to be treated with.

Megumi could, and would, but the thought of bringing attention onto himself held him back from enacting justice.

Even if Gojo was hiding something, they were still technically on a mission; hence, he couldn't be too reckless. Getting arrested and having Gojo bail him out because of some dumb prick didn't entice him.

He gritted his teeth and reached for the book. "Can you give it back, please?"

"So you can ignore me again?" The guy whined. He lifted it out of Megumi's grasp and snapped it shut. "Come on, don't be like that. I'm trying to be nice."

"I'm not interested, with or without it." Megumi got up from his chair and pointed towards the direction of familiar shouting, "My boyfriend there wouldn't like it."

Using Itadori as an excuse was pretty humiliating, but so was the whole situation Megumi had found himself in, really. Between making a scene or that, it couldn't hurt to try and steer him away with the good old "possessive boyfriend" card.

The guy followed his finger with a blank expression, "The pink-haired one?"

Megumi turned his head, confused. Itadori had the face of an angel, but with his toned arms on full display, the guy should have done the mental math and realized it wasn't a fight he could win.

"Hold him, hold him!" Kugisaki yelled in the distance.

His ferocious beast of a boyfriend made a terrifying impression – on Megumi himself, foremost.

He had jumped on Gojo's back and wrapped his arms around him, binding his limbs from moving. Kugisaki stole his water gun to spritz Gojo with double the power, both of them howling in laughter as the man struggled to wiggle free from Itadori's grip.

Nearby, a mother ran up to the child gaping at them from the side, and whisked him away with a frown.

Megumi swallowed hard. "Him."

"Let me guess, he's funny?" The guy shook his head, then fluttered his eyelashes at him. "Listen, you don't have to say goodbye. He looks dumb enough not to notice us sneaking off. How about it?"

"Watch it," Megumi grunted. The only people who could insult Itadori were those personally affected by his occasional stupidity, and not some shitty – and stupid in general – scammer. "He's beaten people for saying less."

"Oh yeah? Bring it. I could take him in a fight."

"I doubt it, but whatever makes you feel better," Megumi said.

"Wanna bet?" The prick grabbed Megumi's wrist and pulled him closer. Megumi slid on the sand and hissed, clenching his other fist. The thoughts of peaceful resolution had vanished, and the guy had exactly three seconds of consciousness left before Megumi's fist bashed his empty head in. "Just don't feel too bad for him afterwards. I can–"

His words turned into a gurgle as a jet of water burst into his face. The stream pinned him even as he stumbled back, choking, using Megumi's book as a shield.

Then, the water stopped. Megumi stepped back, wiping the mist off his cheek, and whipped his head toward the source.

"The fuck?" The guy coughed up water and shouted, "What's wrong with you, asshole?"

Itadori pressed the trigger again, but the water gun hissed empty. "My bad, I missed." He dropped onto the sand and pointed at the book. "That's not yours, is it?"

"None of your fucking business."

Itadori stepped forward, his voice devoid of emotion. "Give it back."

The guy's eyelid twitched. "Huh? Or what?"

Itadori stopped in front of him, extending an open palm. "Give it back."

Oh, Megumi thought, he's pissed.

The scary thing about Itadori's anger wasn't its eruptiveness. He didn't shout, swing his fists, or curse with a foaming mouth.

He shut down. His expression hardened; those usually rounded eyes lost their golden warmth and narrowed, staring the guy down with utter coldness. The tight line of his lips stood in contrast to the charming smile Megumi had grown to love. The longer he looked at him, the more an uncanny dread that something about Itadori's face felt wrong crept up his spine.

The stranger held eye contact at first, puffing up his chest to stand taller than Itadori, but the few centimeters didn't make much difference. His build might have been intimidating to anyone aside from Itadori, who carried not only muscle, but faint scars and scratches that a normal teenager would not have.

The guy shrank under Itadori's eerie staring, his glare turning into a flickering gaze of unease. He finally broke and stepped back, slamming the book against Itadori's chest with a grunt.

Itadori caught it and brushed past him. "Thanks."

"Go fuck yourself, freak." The guy mumbled and scurried in the opposite direction.

That worked, I guess. If Megumi knew all it took to get that pest off him was looking a bit crazy, he would have done the job perfectly himself.

When Itadori turned to face him, it was as if a switch flipped. His eyes had returned to normal, big and doe-like. He leaned in, looking Megumi up and down as if he had suffered real injuries from the dick-measuring contest.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you here on your own." Itadori grabbed Megumi's wrist – the one the guy had pulled on – and pressed it against his cheek. He nudged his wet nose against the inside, and kissed where Megumi's purple veins poked out from under the skin. "What an asshole."

"Dude, I'm not five," Megumi bit the inside of his cheek, his mind going fuzzy at the sight of Itadori's parted lips. "Now let go," He ripped his arm out of Itadori's grasp, the spot his lips touched still hot, and scanned the beach for the remaining two, nowhere to be seen. "Where's Kugisaki and Gojo?"

Itadori huffed, scrunching his brows. "I don't know, I left them to come save you."

"Save me?" Megumi scoffed and snatched the wet thing out of Itadori's hands, then backed away. "All you did was get water on my book, you dick."

Truthfully, Megumi wasn't as attached to the book as he made it out to be. Some pages had torn at the edges, and the ink in the middle section had smeared across the paper, but it wasn't the end of the world. As long as his birthday bookmark from Itadori survived, the book itself could be replaced.

He only needed something else to focus on, if he wished to maintain his composure.

Even without teleporting, Gojo could pop out behind them at any moment, and Megumi didn't feel confident enough to face his aversion just yet. Perhaps on another day, in a less crowded space, and starting slow with holding hands rather than full-blown physical contact.

"I'm sorry–" Itadori stepped over the windbreak and spread his arm, "Was I supposed to stand by and do nothing?"

"You could have asked nicely." Megumi said, pressing on the soaked book to squeeze out as much water as possible, "Or aimed better."

"Oh, because you haven't tried that already?" Itadori crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "You know, I'm starting to think the problem here isn't the book, but that I cut your talk with him short."

Megumi paused, second-guessing if he heard him right. That voice sounded a bit too accusatory to his liking.

His hunch proved right when he looked up from the book and noticed Itadori staring at him with a sullen expression.

"Are you stupid?" Megumi scoffed, "Did it look like I was enjoying myself, to you?"

"It looked to me like he was standing there, drooling all over you–and somehow, I'm getting shit for chasing him off."

Megumi brushed a hand through his hair. "He wanted to scam me, Itadori–not take me out."

Saying that Itadori had possessiveness issues would be an overstatement, but that's not to say he never acted out of jealousy.

It started well before their relationship had begun. At some point, Itadori had created an elaborate plan to ruin Megumi's chances with anyone who dared ask him out. That was pretty insane on its own, so of course, he made it worse by getting Kugisaki and Gojo fully on board.

Megumi still cringed at the memory of the poor woman's face when she asked him for directions, just for those three to jump them straight-out-of-a-telenovela style, thinking she meant to hit on him.

Later on, Itadori would explain to him that it was a joke, and he didn't feel any jealousy towards her – but when Megumi asked to explain what the funny part of the joke in question was, he fell silent.

The incident should have been the first clue to Itadori's slight territorial nature, yet blinded by love, Megumi didn't think much of it. Only in times like this, when it clawed its way out of the ground, did he question it.

He didn't even know that guy's name, for fuck's sake, yet Itadori was acting as if they had been on their way to elope. Hell, the guy didn't ask for his name either.

"Are you kidding me? He was flirting with you! I could see it from that dumb look on his face; it was so obvious!"

"Why would he flirt with me? I barely said anything to him!"

A flush crept up Itadori's face, his expression contorting in frustration, then disbelief, and at the end – when his eyes glazed over – embarrassment crossed it.

"Dude, it doesn't matter to morons like him! You don't get it, do you?" Itadori burst, but with each word, the heat of his tone subdued, "Fushiguro, you're… pretty. Really pretty. And handsome. And attractive, and gorgeous, and everything else in the world. It's hard for me to take my eyes off of you, and I see you every day. Imagine how it feels for other people."

"Itadori, you–" Megumi stammered, lowering his head, "You're embarrassing."

No matter how many times Itadori had spilled his guts out to him, whispering things Megumi hadn't thought of himself, but Itadori had seen in him, it never ceased to take him aback.

The ease with which Itadori had said them scared him. The faintest whisper in his head told him it was because Itadori didn't mean them that those words came so easily to him.

"I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean to ruin your book. But when I saw him coming onto you–touching you as if he could–I wanted to crack his skull."

A shadow fell over Megumi as Itadori stepped closer, cradling himself. He looked small and vulnerable, and not at all scary as he did before. His fingers dug deeper into his arms, the flesh turning white underneath.

"And when you backed away, for a second–I thought that you might've liked it. That you didn't want me anymore." His voice crumbled, and with it, any resolve Megumi tried to keep up. "And it hurt, because that asshole doesn't know you. He doesn't get to love you–I do. You're my Fushiguro."

Megumi shuddered at the sole thought of Itadori's love being too good to be true. Maybe that's why a rotten part of him craved Itadori's jealousy – Itadori's need for his love running so deep that he couldn't help but fight to keep Megumi close. For him to stand by Megumi's side, proudly, and show the world he was his, unlike all those who have abandoned Megumi before.

"I don't want others to touch you as I do. As you touch me." Itadori said.

To have him proclaim the feelings Megumi dared not say out loud, but that were there in his mind, each time he looked upon Itadori's hand and found his own intertwined, like everything about them – their shared burden, promises, and dreams.

No one else could tread the path they carved, and no one else could replace him in Megumi's heart.

"You're embarrassing–" Megumi threw his book on the chair. He tugged on the umbrella, covering them from view, "–and stupid."

"I know," Itadori whined, "Don't hit too hard."

The sunglasses slid down to his forehead as Itadori lowered his head. Megumi bit back a smile, slipped the sunglasses out of Itadori's hair, and threw them behind with the book.

Itadori gulped, "You're going to hit hard, won't–"

Megumi grabbed his collar and hauled him forward, cutting him off with a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Itadori's torso and kissed his neck, once, and then twice, feeling Itadori's goosebumps prickle against his lips.

Itadori's breath hitched, eyes growing wide. Megumi leaned in and pecked him to seal the deal, letting out a low murmur.

"I am yours. The only person I would ever want touching me is you, Itadori." Megumi whispered, his heart racing, "And you're the only one I want. Nothing will ever change that."

Cheeks heating up, he tried to pull away before everyone on the beach got to watch their shameless act – but the moment he did, Itadori chased after him, tangling his hand in Megumi's hair to force him closer.

"No, please–" Itadori mumbled, face burning red, "Come here."

He grabbed onto Megumi's neck for support, deepening the kiss.

The desperate cries of Megumi's mind telling him to think rationally were being drowned out by Itadori's soft noises vibrating in his mouth, the feeling of his warm tongue against his own, and Itadori's hands trailing down to hug his waist.

Megumi melted into the embrace, pleasure fluttering in his stomach.

He wanted it. He wanted everything Itadori had to give him – his eyes looking at him only, his lips pressing against his only, and his heart yearning for Megumi only. Always. He couldn't be mad at him for fickle jealousy, when Megumi himself couldn't bear the thought of anyone taking him away.

He already lost him once. He would never let it happen again.

The sound of shuffling sand behind grounded Megumi back to reality. He pulled back, heaving, "I think that's enough."

"It never is," Itadori murmured against his neck, pinching the skin between his teeth for a second. "You meant it? What you said."

"I did–so remember it," Megumi clutched the collar of Itadori's tanktop and lifted his fist. "You don't want me to remind you."

"I don't?" Itadori grinned and wrapped his palm over Megumi's hand, jumping forward to leave a peck on his nose.

"Are you done?" Kugisaki's voice called out.

Megumi jerked back, hitting his leg against the chair, and fell into it.

Itadori fumbled after him with his arms spread like an eagle, but before he could squish him, Megumi kicked him off to the side. A cloud of sand puffed in the air around them as Itadori landed on the bags, and shot him a bewildered look from the ground.

"Thanks," Kugisaki circled the windbreak, shielding her mildly amused face from the sun. "I left my phone in the bag, and didn't feel like passing by you two freaks… talking."

Gojo sauntered behind her, playing with the string of his hat and overlooking the horizon.

Lips pressed tight, Megumi clasped his hands together in forced ease. He couldn't tell whether Gojo had seen whatever happened between them, but for the sake of his sanity, he chose to believe the sunglasses had blocked most of it out.

Megumi straightened up and cleared his throat. "Bored with the training already?"

"It's no fun with two people," Gojo said in a breezy voice.

"Yeah, especially when one of them cheats," Nobara mumbled as she passed by Megumi.

Itadori rolled off the bags for her. "Sensei, I don't think there are any Cursed Spirits here. We ran around the whole place, and I didn't feel a thing." He stood up and swished his leg, sand pouring out of his slipper. "Are you really sure you didn't exorcise them by accident?"

"Technically, there is one place we haven't checked yet." Gojo crossed his arms, a dark look passing his face. "We can't be certain unless we go there, but I don't think you guys can handle this at your level."

Kugisaki looked up from her phone. "Are you serious?"

"Serious-serious."

"Isn't it better to bring us, then? So we can get better?" Itadori said.

"Nope, that's a solo quest. Believe me." Gojo paced back and forth, voice thick with fake authority, "A solitary road tread by the strongest, where–"

Megumi groaned with an inkling of what was to follow. "Just say where you're going."

Amping up the theatrics, Gojo exhaled loudly and shook his head. He squatted and dug a finger into the sand. "Do you know what always brings out the worst in people?"

"The heat?" Kugisaki fanned herself.

"Well, yes, but not always. The universal answer I was looking for is money." Gojo said, and propped his head on his hands, "And what does everyone without money hate most?"

Itadori tapped his chin, "Uh, paying for stuff?"

"Close, very close, Yuji!" Gojo hopped in place like an excited crab, hands raised like pincers. "It's none other than inflation."

Megumi covered his face in his palms and sank deeper into the chair. "Oh god."

"Yeah, god won't help you with the rising prices of dairy products, Megumi. The industry is selling you less for more, and it's making people angry. Very angry. Enough for the spilling cursed energy to culminate in the places where this cruel reality hits them the most."

Kugisaki wrinkled her nose and raised a brow, "Which are…?"

Gojo took a deep breath and slowly rose. His hand leveled through the air.

Megumi followed the gesture to a small building by the edge of the beach, built of dark wooden planks and a white awning spread atop. An old man stuck his head out the hole-in-the-wall to greet a group of young kids and pointed to the menu with all sorts of colorful parfaits, sundaes, scoops, and shaved ice available.

"Ice cream spots," Gojo whispered, and clenched his fist. Then, he casually wiped his palms and grinned brighter than the sun, "I'll bring some treasures from my hunt, so don't drown while I'm gone."

Gojo skipped across the beach so fast a sandstorm had formed by his feet, leaving them to ponder the sense of the mission in silence.

By the time Megumi figured out what arguments to present to prove something wasn't right about it, the man had come back balancing three ice cream cones and a huge bowl stuffed to the top with garnishes.

I don't know what to think.

Promptly kicked off the chair, Megumi sat huddled between Kugisaki and Itadori on a blanket and licked at his measly two scoops, while Gojo ravaged the whole portion of mango shaved ice all by himself.

He overlooked the beach and focused on finding any residual Cursed Energy, but only picked up Gojo's leftovers on the umbrella. Itadori and Kugisaki hadn't found anything either, so that should be enough to confirm that the reported strange activities weren't a result of curses.

Why did Gojo insist on staying here, then? Was it all a deliberate scheme of his to take some time off? If so, Megumi didn't understand why the man went as far as to involve them and keep up the facade until the end.

"You'll think we have time to wander on our own?" Kugisaki wiped the pink residue off her mouth after a while. "I want to buy cute clothes. Actually cute ones."

"I doubt it." Megumi smacked his lips, the blueberry taste still lingering on his tongue. "Maybe if it's somewhere nearby."

"I think I saw a shopping street while we were driving." Itadori burped in Megumi's ear, earning him an elbow to the stomach. "Ow! We could manage in an hour or two."

"You heard that? Can we go?" Kugisaki craned her neck backward.

Megumi shut his eyes, waiting for Gojo to either shut her down or propose to go together. With the attention off them, Itadori's gentle hand slid over his, nestled in the small gap between them, and pried his fingers open to weave in his own.

"Are you ignoring me?" She raised her voice and whirled around.

Strange. Gojo didn't respond again.

When Megumi opened his eyes, he blinked the sudden brightness away to see Itadori's face hovering beside him.

"Wait, did Gojo-sensei–" Itadori furrowed his brows, "Fall asleep?"

"No, he didn't." Megumi groaned and sat up straight, turning his head towards the chair.

Gojo had sunk into the fabric, long legs sprawled forward like logs and face covered by the hat. In his lap sat the large bowl, now empty, and above, his sunglasses hung from the collar of the blue shirt.

Kugisaki half-crawled, half-pulled herself up from the blanket.

Megumi and Itadori watched as she nudged Gojo with her foot, then slapped his arm, and finally lifted the hat to reveal his face, before dropping it.

"Sure does look asleep to me." Kugisaki said.

The two of them scrambled after her and hunched over the chair.

Gojo's chest lifted, then went down in the beat of his soft snoring, muffled under the fabric of the hat. Itadori lifted his arm, and when he let go, it fell limp into the sand.

Megumi didn't buy the act for a single second. Gojo might have taken their situation lightly, but disregarding it enough to nap on the job seemed beyond him. It had to be one of his idiotic jokes meant to annoy them. Annoy him, most of all.

Itadori coaxed them away from the chair. "My grandpa had this one friend back at our hometown that loved stuffing his face with sugar, but it always knocked him out after. Maybe it's like this for Gojo-sensei, too?"

"He's twenty-eight, not sixty." Megumi rubbed his neck.

"I don't know, that's like halfway there. I'm willing to believe it." Kugisaki shrugged, glancing back when Gojo's snore got louder.

Itadori burrowed his foot under the sand. "What do we do now?"

"Go explore. What else?" Kugisaki took out her phone and unlocked it. "He doesn't care about the mission, so why should we?"

A moment later, she showed the Google Maps route to the International Street. Megumi winced at the twenty minutes on foot, but collected himself when the cab showed it would take five.

"I don't know." Itadori scratched his head, concern passing his face. "What if someone's in danger for real, while we go out and have fun?"

"Then he'll sense it with his Six Eyes, or whatever the fuck." Kugisaki hissed, jerking a thumb at him, "You really want to sit here for god knows how long doing nothing?"

Itadori pouted. "Not really."

Kugisaki waved him off. "Fushiguro, say something."

Two pairs of eyes locked onto him. Megumi blinked. "I don't care. We can go if both of you want to."

Kugisaki's expression grew smug. "See? Even he agrees!"

"For real?" Itadori tilted his head and pressed closer to him. "I thought you'd lecture us about not taking it seriously."

Normally he would, but at this point, the only aspect their mission had in common with sorcerer work was having Satoru Gojo around – and whatever the hell possessed him to act this way, Megumi wanted nothing to do with it.

Also, his ass couldn't take another minute sitting on that stupid blanket. "Maybe some other day."

"It's decided, then." Kugisaki clapped her hands without making a sound and ran off first.

Megumi grabbed his bag and Itadori his shirt before they caught up to her. He took one last glance at Gojo, half-expecting him to jump out of the seat and usher them back.

The man remained in the same position they left him, but the feeling of being watched stayed with Megumi even as they made their way up the stairs and into the street.

"Is it really okay to leave him like this?" Itadori yelled over a honking car. "What if someone robs him?"

"He can afford to get robbed," Kugisaki shouted back, and brought a phone to her ear. "Cheapskate."

Crunch. Megumi munched the last piece of his sweet potato tart, smooth cream mixing in with the buttery shortbread crust.

He licked his thumb to wipe off the crumbs from the corners of his mouth, and checked his reflection on the phone's screen. No leftover purple paste, and no messages from Itadori or Kugisaki either.

Fuck me.

After passing by a single landmark – the tall terracotta Shisa statue Itadori begged to have a picture with – they had finally made it to the long-winded International Street of Naha.

Neatly spaced palm trees lined the streets as they weaved in between the crowds, colorful buildings and flashy signs inviting them inside. Strolling ahead, sweet, spicy, and salty aromas wafted from the open doors of restaurants and stalls, Megumi's stomach groaning at the mere sight of all the fresh goodness. It was a given he would cave in.

And the tart had been money well spent, but not mouth-wateringly delicious enough to warrant eating it alone on a bench.

Megumi knew his adventure would end up like this when Kugisaki had suggested that they split up and each go their separate way to shop. Unsurprisingly, she disappeared not long after they rounded a corner into a line of clothing shops right after another, and sent them a text to have a nice date.

That didn't last long, either.

Though Megumi had been pleased bumping shoulders with Itadori while gazing at the displays – handmade pottery, intricate glassware and woven textiles alike – his boyfriend had bigger ideas, and insisted they storm every souvenir shop in the vicinity.

Megumi lasted three whole stores – filled to the brim with people – being dragged by hand while Itadori gawked at and touched all the figurines, shells and magnets, before his energy ran out.

He assured him that everything was fine, that he just needed a bit of space from all the strangers invading his personal space, and left to cool off in one of the quieter, narrow alleys.

His shopping spree there ended fairly quickly, only buying a treat to fill his stomach and a small magnet to show off to Tsumiki once she woke up. The two swimming shisa statues playing around with a whale shark somehow reminded him of their own awful living situation through a happier lens.

I'll be home soon. Megumi felt the magnet in his pocket and slumped in on himself. Wait for me, Tsumiki.

Looking back on it, perhaps he should have spared himself the misery of reminiscing while profusely sweating and with aching feet.

The sweet lingering taste of shortbread turned bitter in his mouth as he wondered whether he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes – whether pushing Itadori away would leave him with nothing but regrets once again.

"Found ya," A voice called out from the distance, "You done already?"

Itadori emerged from the crowd carrying two big bags, quickening his pace as he approached the bench.

Megumi's stomach churned at the memory of the pained expression he had worn when Megumi fled the store, yet Itadori threw himself onto the seat as if nothing had happened, swinging his legs in excitement.

He shot him a wide smile, but it faltered the moment he caught a glimpse of Megumi's face.

"You good?" Itadori shoved the bags aside and reached to caress Megumi's cheek. "It got a little bit too crowded there, didn't it? I'm sorry."

"I'm okay, just tired." Megumi rested in his palm, letting Itadori's warm fingers brush away the unease that had weighed on him. He couldn't bring himself to vomit out an apology for everything he had and hadn't done. "What did you get?"

Itadori didn't look too convinced, and it took another minute of reassurance for him to let go of Megumi, but when he did, his eyes lit up like two coins.

"Oh, right! I got something that might cheer you up. I bought it to make up for– you know," He ripped open the biggest bag and handed him a thin book. "Might being the keyword."

Megumi looked over the book in his hands, which turned out to be more of a pamphlet or a brochure.

The yellow cover, adorned with graphic drawings of sealife, boats, and hibiscus flowers, screamed Buy me if you're a tourist, and the box in the middle confirmed his suspicions about the quality of the literature.

"An Okinawa guide." Megumi fanned himself with the pamphlet, a small smile tugging on his lips. "That could have been useful like six hours ago, but I guess reading it on a plane back is fine too."

Itadori scratched his head, face covered in his elbow, "I tried, okay? It's not like they had a proper selection here." The tips of his ears still pink, he reached into the bag again and pulled out a black object, "Here, maybe you'll like this one better."

With how different it looked in its miniature version, Megumi didn't recognize what it was until he made a connection between the goofy smile of the figure in his hand and the fiery rows of teeth of the big shisa statue. Here, he could see the dog part of the lion-dog mix in the pointy ears and fluffy paws, his favourite feature being the googly, cartoonish eyes that the landmark lacked.

"It reminded me of your Divine Dog, believe it or not, with the warding off evil, and stuff," Itadori mumbled, carefully placing his palm over Megumi's knee and rubbing it. "Do you like it?"

Megumi nodded, his skin tingling under Itadori's touch. "I do. Both of them." He bummed and leaned in to press his lips against Itadori's cheek. "Thanks."

Itadori giggled and lifted his arm to place behind Megumi, urging him closer with another kiss. Megumi slid across the bench to settle in his embrace, resting his head between the crook of Itadori's neck, and petted the shisa figure's head as if it were his own Divine Dog.

The calm washed over him like a wave when Itadori's hand drifted to twist the strands of his hair, and their knees knocked against each other.

In front, the sun had begun to set, turning the sky bruised orange and shining a warm light over them. The street had died down with no one except them on the bench, so quiet Megumi could hear Itadori's heartbeat drumming in his ear.

As he lay there against him, breathing in his scent, Megumi found it hard to imagine a life where Itadori wasn't there to fill in the space with him.

"Sorry that I pulled away back then," He whispered, coming through louder in the silence.

"Don't," Itadori hugged him tighter. "I was surprised, but that's all."

"You don't think it's weird? To have other people know how you feel about me."

"Not really. I hope everyone knows."

"I want them to know, too–I should, but I don't know. I don't know how to explain it."

Itadori chuckled, nestling his cheek in Megumi's hair. "You're thinking of it too much. Maybe you're just not there yet."

"As in?"

Itadori shifted in his seat. "Everyone has their own pace they like to go at in relationships, don't they? I guess mine is a bit fast compared to yours."

Megumi squeezed the shisa figure. "So mine is too slow?"

"Come on, that's not what I said." Itadori nudged him with his foot. "It doesn't matter how long it takes–you'll get used to it. To us."

Maybe Itadori was right. That's all Megumi ever did, wasn't it?

He endured the misfortune thrown his way, no matter how much it pained him to do so. He accepted the hopelessness of life, and rose above it to make a place for those who were wronged by it.

Megumi got used to the bad to survive, but forgot the good he could welcome to live.

"You don't mind waiting for me, then?"

"Of course not," Itadori tapped his finger against the backrest. Megumi felt him tense up under him. "I'd say we don't have to rush, and we have all of the time in the world, but…" He paused and jerked his leg. "Whatever time together we have left, I'd rather spend it by your side than not. I'm happy just by being with you."

Megumi's chest tightened. "Don't talk like you're dead already." His voice came out rougher than intended.

"Sorry. It slips out sometimes," Itadori winced. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think about it nearly enough. If tomorrow really is my last, then–hey, at least I got to watch the sunset with the one I love, before they put me in the ground."

Megumi gritted his teeth, throat closing in painfully. Itadori said it with the same lightness and ease as he did his last words on that day.

He tugged on Itadori's neck to meet his gaze. "You're not dying. I won't let you." Megumi felt the warmth of the blood running in Itadori's veins. He was alive, not bleeding out on the floor, and he never would again. "Not if it's not by my own hands."

Unable to express it in words, that promise was the best proclamation of love Megumi could manage – rough, and maybe too forceful, but true.

Itadori's eyes widened, but then he burst out into a laugh, all cheeks and dimples. "Of course you'd say that."

And when he leaned in this time, hands roaming up his torso, Megumi wouldn't let go.

Itadori parted his lips, waiting for him to find them, and then they fell together. His chest pressed against his, and the scent of the ocean beaming off Itadori filled Megumi's lungs as he breathed into his mouth.

He nudged his nose against Itadori's, eyes closed, and fingers grasping to memorise the velvet of his skin. Itadori's lips were soft, and the warmth of his tongue consumed Megumi's thoughts, enough to forget the buzzing of his phone until it stopped.

Itadori smiled into the kiss. "Still think it's enough?"

"You were right." Megumi kissed the corner of his mouth.

The burst of Cursed Energy hit him at once, slowly growing stronger until Megumi's senses adjusted to it and the pressure dissolved.

Gojo ensured they would feel him coming long before they noticed the two figures in the distance approaching.

"Love birds, hello!" Kugisaki yelled, her shoulder collapsing under the weight of the bags, "You're not ditching me, are you?"

Itadori draped an arm over the bench. "You're the one who ditched us."

They scooted aside as Kugisaki came up, tossing her bags beside her. "Yeah, but you don't get to do it back." She sat next to Itadori, crossing her legs.

Gojo propped the folded chair and umbrella against the bench. Heaving, he spread himself on Megumi's side and shot a finger gun. "I'm the one who got ditched the most of all, so I win. Thanks."

Itadori's gaze flicked to him. He tried to take his arm off Megumi's shoulder, but Megumi caught his wrist and pulled it back despite the pit in his stomach rising to his throat.

The corner of Itadori's lip twitched upward, and he snuggled up to him without a word.

Megumi breathed in and exhaled. "How was the nap?"

Gojo threw his head back and cried, "Pretty great, up until I noticed the only people left on the beach were smooching couples and me–with no one to smooch." He sniffed, wiping an imaginary tear off, "But enough of my tragic love life. Time to leave."

Kugisaki groaned, bringing her knees to her chest. "Can't we get something to eat first? I hate airplane food."

"There's no need; we're not leaving-leaving. Just changing locations." Gojo whipped up his phone. The three of them gathered around the screen as he scrolled through pictures of the resort, traditionally styled bedrooms, and tables of food. "I figured we could catch a flight in the morning in case something pops up in the night."

"Awesome!" Itadori pumped his fist.

"I could use some beauty sleep," Kugisaki said.

Gojo slid his phone into a pocket. "Megumi?"

Absorbed by the inner emotional turmoil, Megumi forgot they travelled here because of a mission and not to fix his relationship issues.

The suspicions came back with Gojo's convenient excuse, but with his heart finally at ease, Megumi couldn't bring himself to care about the logic anymore.

"Works for me."

"Hypothetical question." Kugisaki poured herself more of the juice. "How much extra stuff would you guys be able to fit in your bags?"

After settling into the place and checking the rooms – Kugisaki hers, and Megumi sharing his with Itadori – the room service knocked on the door and brought in dinner. The low wooden table had been packed with various side dishes and plates of fish and meat, bowls of broth, and juice bottles stacked between them.

Megumi stuffed his mouth full of sweet pork belly, the sugar coating melting on his tongue, and washed it down with tea until his stomach threatened to rip. He pushed his plate away. "None."

"Okay, and how about if you weren't lying?"

"Lots of hypotheticals from you today."

"Fine, whatever." She grumbled and pointed her chopsticks at Itadori. "How about you? You didn't pack much, right?"

Itadori gulped down a big piece of fish. "Yeah, but that's to make space for all the things I would buy. Sorry."

Kugisaki pulled on her hair and gave a passionate speech about the usefulness of men in society, stating exactly why they had failed to uphold their value and would have probably gone on had Gojo not interfered.

"Alright, alright, we get it." Gojo patted her to settle her down. "I'll teleport it back to the dorms for you."

"You will?" Kugisaki braced her hands on the table, but then narrowed her eyes. "Wait, then why do we even need to wait for an airplane?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that. We can talk about it some other day." Gojo rubbed his stomach and swept his eyes over the empty dishes. "Everyone full? If so, you're free to go–as in, free to go to sleep and nowhere else."

The three of them got up from the cushions. Megumi crossed the threshold into the hallway after Itadori, and glanced back to the sound of clatter.

Gojo had bent over the table to gather the plates in piles, more than half of them still scattered across, and carried them off to the kitchenette.

"Fushiguro?" Itadori tapped him on the back. "You coming?"

"Go ahead. I need to use the bathroom."

He picked up the biggest plate and stacked the smaller bowls on top. Gojo let out a faint chuckle as he passed Megumi on the way to the table, who went to put his dishes into the sink.

"I know you think I was pampered as a child," Gojo called out over the clang of glass. "And I was–but I can handle a couple plates."

Megumi dodged Gojo's elbow coming into the room. "Zip it."

Gojo stuck his thumb up, now back by the sink. "Alright, captain."

They switched places a few more times until the dark wood of the table shined back at them.

Megumi sprayed it down with a random disinfectant and wiped at grease stains, catching Gojo turning on the faucet from the corner of his eye. He didn't stop until the surface squeaked clean, and then froze, realizing he had done it in the rhythm of Gojo's singing.

"Are you going to spill now?" Megumi threw the dirty rag on the counter.

Gojo paused his performance. "Nope, I can block the water with Infinity. I'm awesome like that." He put the wet dish on the rack, the plastic bending under the weight of it, and drizzled more soap in the sink.

Determined to get the truth, Megumi snatched a kitchen towel off the cupboard handle and picked a dripping bowl to dry. "I'm being serious. Tell me." 

"Fine, you got me," Gojo said after a while, tipping a cup to pour out water, "The great Satoru Gojo hates washing dishes, but he will do it for his students' happiness. There."

Megumi ripped a smaller plate off the rack too hard, sending the thing rattling.

He could tolerate him playing obtuse at the beginning, but his patience had run out. Megumi wasn't stupid, yet Gojo sure as hell treated him like he was by dragging out the act.

Megumi slid the plate away and reached for a glass. "There was never a curse here, was there?"

Gojo's hands froze mid-air, water trickling down to his elbow. He snorted and squeezed the sponge over a bowl, "Nothing ever goes under your nose, does it?"

"I could maybe believe anything else, but it was strange for you to nap during the day." Megumi bit the inside of his cheek, victory swelling in his chest. "Do the higher-ups know we went on a paid vacation?"

"They do, because the curse did exist."

Megumi whipped his head from the dish. "Huh?"

"I took care of it." Gojo turned the tap off. "And no, it wasn't the paleness curse."

A hundred questions flooded Megumi’s mind, none of them yielding a logical answer.

He could accept being wrong, but there had to be an explanation for why he was wrong. This seemed like another bluff Gojo had created on the spot to shut him up, and yet, Megumi doubted that was the case.

Gojo didn't need proper preparations like them. He could have exorcised the curse while he went to pee, in the ten minutes he was gone for ice cream, or during his nap–

Oh. Right.

"I don't get it," Megumi mumbled.

Fine, there was a curse and Gojo killed it. That made sense, but if so – what was the point of bringing them along?

"There's not much to get. I was assigned a high-class mission here, and figured I'd take you with me as a sort of learning experience." Gojo stuck out his tongue. "Or that's what I told them."

"But why take us here, if you didn't plan on making us do anything?"

Gojo dried his hands with a towel and leaned against the sink. "Back when I was a student, there was a time I got assigned a similar mission. My friend and I travelled all the way to Okinawa to watch some kid, and spent the entire day having fun."

He gave Megumi a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his faraway gaze. "Even though things with him ended badly, I still cherish that memory. I wanted you guys to have one like it, too–to look back on when you're down."

Megumi stayed silent, rubbing the already dry glass with a damp towel.

"School isn't just classes, training, and exorcising, Megumi. You're still young. You'll have time for serious missions and existential crises in the future, but your teenage years won't last forever. Don't waste them."

Gojo patted Megumi on the head and ruffled his hair. Megumi's hand jerked to swipe it away on instinct, but as Gojo's grip softened, merely resting, he let it stay there.

"And enjoy yourself, for once."

"Man, I'm so happy we didn't have to do anything after all," Itadori said, sprawled like a starfish on the futon. "Today was awesome."

"Mhm." Megumi pulled the thin blanket up to his nose.

He had tried taking it off, then putting it back on, and even switched places with Itadori despite their futons being right beside each other to fall asleep.

Nothing helped. The room was too hot, the tatami mat underneath offered no support, and his lumpy pillow felt hard in some places but not hard enough in others.

After an hour of restless tossing, Itadori – who willingly stayed up late to keep him company – had the brilliant idea to tire him out by talking. Megumi agreed, and came to regret it after the first five minutes.

Itadori had done a good job reporting the earlier training with Kugisaki, and boasting of how he held Gojo contained for at least a minute. Still, Megumi's responses to his excitement had been lackluster at best.

He didn't mean to diminish Itadori's feats, but found himself at a lack of words with Gojo's lecture, the dazed look in his eyes, and the nostalgia bleeding through his voice still fresh on his mind.

"I hope that asshole didn't ruin your day," Itadori said, playing with the corner of the futon. "Or that I didn't."

"No, that's not it. I swear."

"Okay. Good." He exhaled. "What is it, then? I thought you enjoyed today–up until we got here."

"I did. I enjoyed it." Megumi said, but then quickly added, "I do every day spent living by your side, I think."

The blanket plunged in the air. Itadori kicked his legs high, red in the face, and then curled in on himself. The blanket slowly drifted down to envelop him in hibiscus flowers.

"What's gotten into you?" Itadori blurted out, his voice muffled, "You're scaring me."

The words had flown out of his mouth before Megumi got to think them through.

Perhaps with all the pondering and contemplating he did today, the sudden confession forming on his tongue had been its culmination.

"I guess I was thinking a lot today–about everything–and I wanted you to know."

Itadori stuck the tip of his head from under the blanket, blinking slowly, and then crawled all the way out.

He fluttered his eyelashes, cheeks going pink with pleasure. "Thanks. I think I needed to know it, too."

Another wave of hot air swept in, or perhaps the realization of what he said finally seeped in.

Whatever it was, Megumi couldn't take it anymore and pushed himself up to the window. He slid it open, the cold sea breeze pouring into the room, and took a moment to stare at the night sky.

"Close it." Itadori whined, "We're about to pass out anyway."

"So? I like sleeping with the breeze."

Itadori propped himself on his elbows. "The guys from my occult club told me that it invites evil spirits, and I don't really feel like fighting right now." He scratched his cheek and pouted, "Then again, I guess we can't get any worse than with him."

Taking a page out of Gojo's book of being weirdly considerate, Megumi dismissed the insult starting with p and ending with ussy dancing on his tongue.

He scanned the room for anything light to cover the window, a spare blanket or maybe a sheet, when he noticed a pair of ears poking out of the pocket of his bag.

Itadori cast him a curious look as Megumi crouched beside him and placed the shisa figure between their futons. "How about it? It'll ward them off."

"You got me," Itadori laughed and rolled on his back. "I paid two thousand yen for him, so he better."

"Him?" Megumi nestled into the sheets. "It looks pretty androgynous to me."

"Him. They come in pairs. I read it in that book of yours. You can tell by their mouths–open for warding off evil, and closed for keeping good fortune." Itadori stroked the figure's rolled-out tongue. "I wanted to get us both, but they were sold out already. Makes you think about how priorities have changed over the years, huh?"

Megumi stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"Hm? Oh, don't be. I didn't plan on buying any gifts beforehand. It was a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing." Itadori said, and tossed to face him, his voice dropping an octave, "Besides, I already have my own charm. A blessing, even. Right, Megumi?"

Hearing his name out of Itadori's mouth shouldn't have much effect. They had said far worse to each other through their relationship, but the tenderness in his voice left Megumi struggling to breathe.

He hated that name. Hated the one who gave it to him without a care in the world, and hated how wrong the meaning behind it was.

A joke, is what it was. Another cruel joke life had played on him, because Megumi had never been a blessing to anyone.

"Yeah, you're right."

Megumi took off the blanket and slid off the futon. Heartbeat pounding, he crawled on top of Itadori, who watched him with sparkling eyes, remaining still as Megumi cupped his sunburned face.

"You don't need a figure, Itadori."

Itadori, who uttered his name with a smile. Itadori, who gave it a purpose. Itadori, whose kindness turned this joke into something Megumi wanted to be.

"You have me. I'll protect you–with all that I have, and from everything."

Megumi pressed his lips against his, again, and again, and prayed to every god there was that it would become true. No, he himself would make it true. He would become Itadori's blessing, as he was his.

Itadori squirmed under him, giggling against his mouth before it erupted into a heartfelt laugh.

Megumi pulled back, unsure whether Itadori was laughing at him or himself, and squeezed his face tighter. "You don't believe me?"

"I do–" Itadori yelped, flailing his limbs with puckered lips like a fish out of water.

Still a little flustered, Megumi stayed atop and shoved Itadori's face into the futon, waiting for an explanation. They tussled for a bit, messing up both futons as they rolled around and tried to shove the other off.

Eventually, Itadori had enough, and the world spun as Megumi got flipped over, Itadori's arms crushing his ribs until he stopped fighting back.

"I do!" Panting, Itadori slammed a hand by his head. "Because that's what I thought, too! That I have everything–fortune and protection–as long as I have you."

The moment those words left his mouth, he closed his eyes and slumped over, the cushion softening his fall.

"Don't I?" He muttered, his warm breath fanning over Megumi's cheek. Then his shoulders dropped, and soon his breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace.

Megumi poked his cheek, and when Itadori didn't react, brushed it with his thumb.

"Tomorrow, I'll wake up and hold your hand all the way to the airport, and throughout the flight. When we land, too." He whispered, pressing his forehead to Itadori's. "No, I'll kiss you then. In front of everyone. And I won't worry anymore. I want others to know–"

A snore settled in the room. Megumi covered his mouth, the laugh at the back of his throat threatening to slip out – and perhaps to stop himself from talking, too. Before he said those words without meaning to. The ones he should have told him ages ago.

With the shisa figure as his witness, Megumi intertwined their little fingers.

"I love you."