Chapter Text
Megumi meets him in elementary school. His older brother (or whatever his real relation to Megumi is, nobody really bothers explaining to six year old Megumi why a white-haired kid suddenly comes to live with him just as his parents make their way out of his life, and Megumi’s never really cared enough to look into it) Gojo walks in through the front door one day with someone trailing behind him and Megumi looks up from his worksheet only to see pink.
The memory sticks with him to this day because seeing someone with a scalp full of pink hair, not even strawberry blonde or ginger but truly pink, the color of fatty tuna or the flesh under your fingernails, is a noteworthy event even for a notoriously difficult to impress fifth grader.
“Yuji, that’s my little brother, Megumi. You can call him Fushiguro.”
“Is that your last name?” Pink hair asks, looking over at Megumi and waving. “Hi Fushiguro! I’m Yuji Itadori, Gojo’s friend.”
Megumi waves back silently.
“My last name’s Gojo, so no.”
“Huh. But?” Yuji darts his eyes between them in confusion.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gojo shakes his head as he pulls a chair. “Wanna get started? We can go watch a movie after if we finish fast enough.”
“Oh, awesome!” Yuji exclaims, and Megumi is taken aback because this Yuji guy sparkles. His eyes turn into happy crescents when he grins and his face exudes a brightness that threatens to outshine the kitchen lights. “You’re the best tutor ever!”
“Heh,” Gojo smirks, “and I’m gonna make you the best student ever.”
And Gojo really means it, because Yuji suddenly becomes a staple in their quiet home. From two kids to three, the house instantly becomes a lot more rambunctious, having finally found someone that can compliment and not dampen Gojo’s outspoken energy. At first he gets on Megumi’s nerves, between his stupidity–Megumi overhears their tutoring sessions and answers the questions that Yuji gets stuck on easily despite being three grades below him–and defaultly loud voice, but his earnest way of doing every single thing, whether it’s his insistence on trudging through mindless worksheets when Gojo could just feed him the answers, or the guilt that sits so plainly on his face when he swears he was listening in class, just to track back and admit that he’d been thinking about what to make for dinner the whole time, quickly changes Megumi’s mind.
Plus, he’s just too kind to dislike. He always includes Megumi in their post-tutoring delinquency despite Megumi being two years younger and much more taciturn, though Megumi usually turns down his invitations to stay home and read novels instead. He even brings Megumi books from school that they’d finished reading because it’ll be easier when you get to English class and you already know the story, and Megumi doubts he really needs the preemptive boost but accepts them anyway.
So overall, Megumi likes Yuji. There’s nothing much more to it than that. He’s a sweet friend to both of them and Megumi gets so used to seeing him around that he treats him like a second brother, someone he can also ignore when he’s not in the mood to talk or toss a crumpled napkin at when he’s being too annoying. Things stay like that through fifth, sixth, and half of seventh grade, until the poorly timed overlap of Megumi’s hormonal brain development and Yuji’s emotional maturation cause an implosion in poor Megumi’s heart that somehow never gets repaired.
–
Gojo, for some reason, is out, and yet Yuji’s at their house. He’s sitting alone on the front steps of the porch with something in his hand and when Megumi gets off the middle-school bus and sees him, he plops down next to him to say hello.
“Hey, Fushiguro.” Yuji says. The sparkles are nowhere to be seen today.
“Where’s Gojo?” Maybe the flatness has something to do with that.
“He went to the store to get me fried chicken.”
“You didn’t go with him?”
“No, I don’t want to miss the cat.”
“What?”
Yuji shows him what he’s holding–an open can of wet cat food.
“Sometimes there’s a cat on your porch when me and Gojo get back from school,” Yuji explains. “But while we were biking today we saw a dead cat on the street.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So I just want to check.”
“Have you been waiting a long time?” Megumi looks at Yuji and is caught off guard by just how sullen he looks up close. He’s never seen him frown this deeply, not even while he’s doing chemistry homework.
“Today was a minimum day, so a couple hours, I guess.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind,” Yuji offers a weak smile. “I don’t want to miss him if he comes by.”
The first thought Megumi has is that the cat’s probably dead. The second is that Yuji is the most wonderful person he’s ever met in his life.
“Okay,” is all Megumi offers before he gets up and walks through the front door. Yuji’s halfway through saying bye-bye when Megumi comes back, the legs of two of their dinner table chairs scraping behind him as he hauls them onto the porch. “We can sit and wait here. My butt hurts from sitting on the floor.”
Yuji, forthcoming as he always has been, watches Megumi set the chairs down by the steps and starts to cry.
“What?” Megumi asks, shocked and completely out of his element. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone cry in real life before, only on TV, and he sort of flails around as Yuji wobbles up from the steps and wraps him into a soul-imprinting hug.
“I was so sad,” Yuji hiccups, “but if you wait with me, even if he doesn’t come back, it won’t be as bad.”
“I–well, I like cats, too. I like all animals.” Megumi answers stupidly.
“Me too, me too,” Yuji wails.
They sit down on the chairs. Yuji puts the can down onto the bottom step and Megumi pulls his homework out of his backpack to work on as they wait, the early spring chill nipping at him through his uniform.
“Gojo should be back soon,” Yuji says.
“Okay.” Megumi hopes the line at the chicken place is extra long today.
A beat of silence passes, then Yuji talks again. “Part of my name means ‘tiger.’”
“Tigers are cool.”
“I know, right? Maybe we can be zookeepers when we’re older.”
Megumi pictures them in matching safari hats and khaki sets and giggles a bit. Before he can respond properly Gojo comes riding in on his bicycle, a bucket of chicken nestled into the front basket.
“Delivery!” he hollers, and Yuji waves from their spot on the porch. “Hot, fresh chicken coming through!” He tosses the bike haphazardly onto the front lawn and sprints up the stairs, gracefully dodging the untouched cat food. “Hey, why didn’t you pull a chair for me?”
“Fushiguro brought them. He only has two hands,” Yuji defends him, though he’s already getting up to grab a third one for Gojo.
“I guess that makes sense,” Gojo answers as he plops down onto the now freed seat. “Here, Megumi.”
Megumi wraps a napkin around a drumstick and nibbles at it while Yuji reappears on the porch, pulling his seat to the other side of Megumi.
“Pass it,” he extends an open hand over Megumi’s lap, and Gojo tilts the bucket towards him.
“Why didn’t you just sit next to me? Now Megumi has to hold the chicken, and he hates getting his hands greasy.”
“Oh. Oops,” Yuji shrugs, though he doesn’t move and Megumi’s actually kind of happy as the bucket gets transferred into his lap. “Thanks for the food!”
They sit like that, just the three of them and their rapidly emptying ration of KFC, until dusk comes and the chill turns into real cold and Gojo stands up, stretching his arms.
“It’s getting kind of cold, huh?” He looks down at the two of them, still seated. “Yuji.”
Getting up now means admitting the worst has happened. Yuji’s feet tap nervously against the planks as he turns to face Gojo.
“Yeah?”
“...You know.”
Nobody says anything for a couple minutes. Even Gojo, who fears nothing in the world of social interaction, seems to hate disappointing Yuji, and Megumi feels the same way as he watches Yuji bite his own lip and blink away the glossiness in his eyes.
“Yeah. I know.” He gets up and grabs the back of his chair. “Can I leave the food there?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Gojo says as he drags his own seat back in first.
Megumi gets up too, following suit, but stops before he steps into the house because Yuji’s still standing there, staring out onto the street. In the moment Megumi wishes he could say something profound, something touching enough to help Yuji, but his poor middle schooler brain just can’t figure it out.
So he settles on saying, “Maybe it’s just somewhere else.”
Yuji looks at him, and a tiny smile blossoms on his face. “Yeah. Maybe, Fushiguro.”
They trudge in together, leaving long scrapes along the hardwood as they haul the chairs back to the dinner table. Before Yuji leaves he ruffles Megumi’s hair once and says thank you.
Megumi goes to sleep that night dreaming of tigers, goofy bucket hats, and suspiciously pink hair, and when he wakes up a blushing mess with the name Itadori ghosting his lips he knows he’s in for it, big time.
Damn you, Itadori, and your good, brilliant heart, he curses him into his pillow. Damn you.
When he finally makes it into the kitchen for breakfast five minutes later than usual, Gojo takes a single look at him over his bowl of cereal and laughs in his flushed face.
“You like him, don’t you!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Megumi lies.
–
Megumi condemns the guy who hit and killed that poor cat to infinite lifetimes in hell not just because he’s an animal murderer, but because he’s the catalyst for Megumi’s gradual descent into madness.
“You know, having a crush does not make you insane,” Gojo informs him as they watch Yuji’s wrestling match. “Also, is it my turn yet?”
“No, you’re up in fifteen.”
“Ugh, but I’m sick of waiting. Well, did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, I guess it is kinda a long time. You’re in ninth grade now so, hm,” Gojo counts on his fingers, one, two, three, “Two and a half? Three years? That’s basically past having a crush. I guess you’re just in love now, wow. At least Yuji’s never had a girlfriend or anything like that.”
Megumi gives Gojo’s blabbering face a nasty side-eye.
“Or boyfriend, for that matter. He’s an open minded guy. There’s hope! Oh, look, he’s about to kill that poor kid and he’s not even trying.”
On the sweaty gym mat, Yuji’s putting the guy into all sorts of pins–cradles, arm bars, Nelsons, whatever he feels like doing, and his opponent’s flailing like a pool noodle under that dense mass of smiling muscle. Eventually Yuji settles on a scissor and is propped up on one elbow, facing Gojo and Megumi in the bleachers as the kid flops unceremoniously between his legs, and when he looks over at them Gojo takes the opportune moment to stick his tongue and shake his head.
Yuji, unbearably weak to any form of slapstick, starts to laugh. He starts with a poorly concealed giggle, face turning red from the building pressure, and then the laughs start to explode out of his chest and he’s burying his face into the mat and laughing and the kid’s still stuck in a pin of shame and now Gojo and Megumi are both laughing while burying their faces in their shirts and the referee comes diving in with a whistle blaring in his mouth as he tugs a still laughing Yuji off with a face of utter indignation.
Fuck, fuck, Megumi steels his face while Gojo’s still fighting the dying fits of laughter, Yuji’s so fucked. The ref’s got Yuji hauled up on his feet and is yelling at him something dire while Yuji’s head is bowed down, chin to chest, and then they’re walking over to Coach Gakuganji together for Yuji to receive the scolding of a lifetime, no doubt about it.
“Gojo, stop,” Megumi hisses. “He’s actually in trouble.”
“No way, it’s just–” Gojo looks up with tears in his eyes and sees old baldie waving a deathly finger around Yuji’s face. “Oh. Shit. It’s over.”
“It’s your fault. Go say something.”
Gojo gets up immediately and drags Megumi with him to the confrontation.
“Coach, I–”
“Do not bring your insolence here now, Gojo.”
“Well, it was my insolence that started it all, so can you let Yuji go now?”
Gakuganji’s eyes–or really, the dark sockets where his eyes probably are, nobody can really tell because of how sunken in they are–trace over Yuji’s face, then Gojo’s, and finally settle on Megumi’s.
“Fushiguro, I expect you to conduct yourself better than the likes of Gojo.”
Megumi chews the inside of his cheek, caught between standing up for all of them or trying to placate the powers that be. He quickly makes his decision.
“Itadori and Gojo had no intention to do anything harmful.”
“Is a show of poor sportsmanship to this degree not a harmful act?”
“He was laughing because Gojo choked on water and made an odd face. It wasn’t anything more than that.” Gojo and Yuji are both looking at Megumi in awe as he continues, “And Coach Gakuganji, you know Itadori. He’s not the type to look down on his opponents despite being leagues beyond all of them.”
Coach Gakuganji dismisses all of them after a minute of silence.
“That was super cool of you, Fushiguro!” Yuji exclaims. “I always knew you had it in you. Sorry for roping you guys into that, though.”
“Gojo chose to come over there.”
“‘Cause Megumi forced me too.”
They both roll their eyes at each other as Yuji laughs. “Well, thanks, both of you.”
There’s an uneasy feeling that settles in the bottom of Megumi’s stomach when he sees Gakuganji talking discretely to the team’s student manager, Miwa, who keeps looking at them for the rest of the tournament, but he tries to ignore it as he spectates Gojo’s match. Of course, it’s an easy victory for him, but Yuji cheers violently anyway.
“Man, that school sucked,” Gojo says around a forkful of cake. They’re at a late-night cafe, a common post-meet ritual for the trio. “We wiped them.”
“Yeah! Even Fushiguro won today, woohoo!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ah, well,” Yuji scratches the back of his head, “you know, uh.”
“Just give him some time. He’s got potential,” Gojo nods sagely.
“You guys are stupid.”
“Aw, Fushiguro, I wasn't trying to be. I really thought you did a good job against that guy, I couldn’t believe he was in your weight class. And you helped me out with Coach Gakuganji so that's, like, two wins!”
“Right.” Megumi nibbles at his pudding. “You think you’ll get cut for that?”
“No way, Yuji’s a total star on the team,” Gojo waves his spoon flagrantly, “Gramps must have dementia if he actually kicks Yuji off for something that stupid.”
–
Guys
I got cut :(
Megumi sees the text at lunch, and within the next minute Gojo appears around the corner and pulls him from his table behind the library to huddle with Yuji by the science lab.
“We’re quitting wrestling.”
“Huh?” Yuji exclaims. “Wait, you don’t have to just because I–”
“I don’t agree with that decision, so I’m not going to just sit there and keep spoon feeding that old head trophies and records. Right, Megumi?”
“I agree,” Megumi states resolutely.
“Guys,” Yuji looks back and forth between them with a fondness that just oozes out of his every pore, pulling them in for a group hug, “you’re so fuckin’ cool.”
Megumi blushes as he knocks heads with Yuji.
“Your head’s so hard.”
“That’s good, ‘cause we’ll be starting a new sport–everyone, vote now! Brazilian jiu jitsu, muay thai, or boxing?”
“Why are they all contact sports?”
“Because, Megumi, how else will I beat on chumps without repercussions? And plus, who knows where you’ll go to college! You need to be strong and be able to protect yourself from–”
“Maybe BJJ, because we’re already pretty good at grappling?” Yuji offers. “And there’s less brain damage, I think, since Fushiguro’s worried about that.”
“Kay, it’s decided! We’re going shopping for shorts and shirts today and then we’re going to sign up for the gym tomorrow.”
“My allowance–”
“I’m treating everyone,” Gojo shushes him, “so don’t worry about it. Oh, and then we’re gonna go watch the new Fast and Furious movie that just came out.”
“Okay!” Yuji beams. “I’m excited!”
“Perfect! Megumi, let’s go tell Gakuganji we’re leaving his ass.”
Laughing, Megumi and Gojo rush off to go find their soon to be ex-coach before the next period bell rings, and Megumi gets to deliver the big news to an astounded Gakuganji as Gojo stands beside him and gloats like a well-fed cat.
–
Jiu jitsu is actually super fun. Megumi finds himself way more invested because every match can be turned into a technical minefield (so long as he isn’t up against Yuji, really, whose inhuman strength seems to upset any and all of his fight knowledge) and it’s a lot better than scrambling against overly eager freshman whose strongest techniques are body odor and groin strikes. Gojo drives them to the gym after class and they sweat their souls away until it’s time to wrap up, grab dinner, and do homework in front of the TV, and they rinse and repeat until senior graduation creeps alarmingly close.
“Don’t worry,” Yuji pats Megumi’s back as they sit side by side on the mat, watching Gojo tumble with some menacing looking middle-aged man, “we’ll be here for another couple years.”
“Where’d you get the idea that I was worried?”
“I know how much you care about Gojo.”
“I care about you, too,” Megumi states as easily as he can.
From his peripheral vision, Megumi can see Yuji grinning at him. “And I care about you too, Fushiguro!”
Not the same way, Megumi thinks, though he hates himself for it. He wishes he could just be happy to have Yuji as a friend and nothing more.
“Hey, Gojo’s getting his ass handed to him,” Yuji points at the floor where Gojo’s flattened out, looking more disheveled than he’s ever been his whole life. “Who’s he rolling with?”
“Uh, some guy named Toji.”
“Ooh. He’s scary.”
–
“You don’t need to stay here just to take care of me,” Megumi tells Gojo over dinner. Yuji’s not with them so it’s a bit quiet, and they have a chance to talk things over. “I know you got accepted into a bunch of schools.”
“Hm? Oh, is this about community college?”
“Yeah.”
Gojo shakes his head.
“I’m having fun here, Megumi. I want to stay with you and Yuji. Maybe it’s not the ‘best’ thing I could be doing for myself,” he puts air quotes around the word best, like it’s a total sham, “but I didn’t move in with you just to keep doing whatever old people say is right. It’s important to do what you want, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Hey, at least react to my awesome speech a little more enthusiastically. I was being cool and grown,” Gojo pouts.
Once in a while, his childishness is refreshing. Megumi’s glad he hasn’t lost that about him despite the unorthodox life they’ve carved out together.
“Yeah. It was awesome,” Megumi smiles. “I’ll do what I want, too.”
–
The next couple years are a little different–Megumi takes the bus to school because Gojo’s busy sleeping in until his eleven AM courses start, and there’s nobody yanking him away from his friends at lunch anymore. It’s a little lonely, not having the two of them there for his sophomore and junior year, but they still go to the gym together, one part of their routine that they never break.
“You’re catching up to me,” Yuji sticks his flattened fingers out from his forehead to Megumi’s, though the barrage of spiky black hair blunts the accuracy. “I think we’re the same height now.”
“I think I’m still growing.”
“Ah,” Yuji sighs into his hands, “I’m gonna be the shortest one.”
“Well, Gojo’s just hard to compete with. Annoyingly so.”
As if he could hear them, Gojo places Toji into a rear naked choke and smiles at them as Toji taps. The two of them get off the mat, Toji grinning at Gojo as they discuss the round, and Yuji and Megumi take their spot.
“You ready?” Yuji asks.
“Yeah.” Megumi lies on his back, legs bent as Yuji stands, crouching slightly in front of him. “Come.”
Ah, well, that was a poorly chosen word. Megumi hopes Yuji doesn’t notice but when he looks up at Yuji’s face there’s a weird look on it, a mix of shock from his wide eyes and fluster from the sudden streak of red warming his cheeks, and Megumi’s face is probably mirroring it right now because that expression is seriously cute on Yuji and it feels almost inappropriate to witness as he lies down, ready to get his guard overpowered, and suddenly Megumi feels molten inside and there’s a dangerous buzz gnawing at the depths of his gut and he’s wondering if he should just get up and excuse himself or let Yuji drape his big old muscles all over his hot and bothered body.
“Uh,” Megumi chokes, “is something wrong?”
“No! Nothing,” Yuji shakes his head vehemently, “should I, er, come now?”
“I, I guess.”
Yuji wades in between his legs instead of passing the guard and Megumi expects nothing less from his brutish way of doing things, but it forces Megumi into wrapping his shins behind Yuji’s waist to close the guard and now their crotches are smashed together, and Megumi does his best to ignore that as Yuji folds forward and digs his hands into Megumi’s shoulders, right where his chest muscles stretch across his armpits. Above him Yuji’s face is sweating in concentration, still slightly pink and panting, and Megumi turns his head to the side as he focuses on keeping his guard tight.
“Does it hurt too much?” Yuji asks. His voice is so… breathy. And sexy. Fuck.
“No, you can keep going,” Megumi answers, and he swears he’s not trying to make it sound like they’re doing anything else but grappling.
Yuji nods and starts to take steps backwards to straighten Megumi’s legs out while pressing his upper body into the mat and Megumi starts gritting his teeth in exertion to keep his legs wrapped around Yuji’s trunk, squeezing like his life depends on it, but Yuji’s stronger and he manages to pivot despite the pressure and get one knee wedged right into–right into–oh my God, it’s on my dick, it’s pressing on my dick, Megumi panics, his knee’s fucking rubbing into my dick and he’s stretching my whole body out and pressing down on me and panting and, shit, shit, this is bad.
“Wait, Itadori–” Megumi starts, but it’s too late. He feels his blood rushing south. “Oh, God, sorry.”
“What for?” Yuji’s head flicks up to look at him, normal for a second until his cheeks crimson into a dark pink. “Oh! Oh, shoot, sorry!” he exclaims as he yanks his knee back and lets go of Megumi, whose legs have already gone slack. “Are you okay?”
“I, yeah. I’m fine,” Megumi scrambles onto his ass and pulls his knees up to his chest. “Sorry about that, Itadori, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I don’t know why that happened.”
“No! It’s okay, it’s super normal, it’s not a big deal. It’s totally cool. Wanna take a break?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay.”
They scoot back into the spectator line and Yuji leans over to whisper, “Wait, Fushiguro, do you need me to like, explain how that works?”
“What?” Megumi balks. “Why would I need you to–”
“Because I don’t know if Gojo’s taught you the birds and the bees!”
“Lower your voice, please.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” Yuji ducks down again. “If you need me to, like, teach you about that stuff I can! I’m probably not gonna be the best at–”
An image of Yuji holding a banana and unrolling a condom over it makes Megumi want to die. “No, I’m okay, I took sex-ed,” he cuts him off, “so I’m good.”
“Okay! You got it.” Yuji hums to himself for a moment before he adds, “Oh, I think Gojo might know more than me, anyway. He went home with our art history TA the other day.”
Gojo’s voice manifests behind them. “Hm? Now, now, Yuji, what could you possibly be telling my darling little brother?”
“I was telling him about your date with Geto,” Yuji answers innocently. “Hey, what–”
Gojo hauls all one hundred eighty pounds of him into the center of the mat and guillotines him as Yuji alternates between gasping for air and laughing. From the sidelines Megumi silently thanks Gojo because Yuji’s bound to remember Gojo whaling on him rather than Megumi’s unfortunately timed boner.
–
Blissful days roll by until Megumi’s senior year of high school, when Gojo, Yuji, and Megumi are forced to finally split paths, all settling on three different universities–Gojo and Yuji’s twenty minutes apart, Megumi’s four hours in the opposite direction.
They spend the last day of summer together eating melting popsicles on the porch.
“I’m gonna go pick up another pack, you guys stay here.” Gojo announces, tossing the wooden stick in the trash as he walks over to the car. “Megumi, check your phone.”
Yuji, oblivious, doesn’t even peek as Megumi flicks the screen on.
tell him how you feel okaaayyyy :DDDD you got this ^_^^
Megumi looks over at Yuji, who’s currently using his tongue to chase a streak of popsicle juice running down his wrist, and just laughs, snapping a photo of the moment against the slowly setting sun.
“Itadori.”
“Ywahh?” Yuji asks, all garbled because his tongue’s still out.
“I like you.”
He finally retracts his tongue to speak normally again, resigned to letting the juice trickle down onto the wooden steps.
“I like you too!”
Ah, dense as a brick. Megumi takes it as a victory anyway and smiles softly.
“I’m gonna miss doing this.”
“Yeah, me too. But you’re gonna do great at school. I know you.”
It’s hard to look at Yuji right now. When he does, heat prickles at the corners of his eyes and makes him remember the cat, the middle school worksheets, all the sweat and sore muscles and fried chicken, shitty movies, lunch break huddles. Pink hair against pink skies, dusk and endings, change on the horizon. Megumi bites his lip and looks away and Yuji, wordlessly, wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him close.
“It’s gonna be fine. Don’t look so sad, okay?”
Megumi buries his head into his forearms and lets himself cry, just for a little while.