Work Text:
Nobara is meticulously choosing her nail polish when Yuuji starts to speak.
“So, there’s this ghost-”
“Absolutely not.”
He pouts, turning around in her bed to stare down at her. It’s a lazy Saturday, the early afternoon sun shining down from the open windows, casting warm and bright sunlight all over the bedroom. Nobara’s hair is hidden beneath a plastic shower cap, the leopard print a stark contrast with her colorful shirt, shoulders faded from years of bleaching. Every few months or so, Yuuji comes over to help her touch up her roots. It has become a ritual for them, hair dying and gossiping.
“You didn’t even hear me out!”
“Don’t have to,” she sets aside a bright green polish, gaze shifting from a couple of different toppings. “Last time I heard you out we ended up at the hospital.”
Yuuji winces, recalling their last venture in their ghost hunting adventures. “Not my fault- well. Okay, but this time it’s for real. Also, you should go with that one- yeah, the sparkly one..”
Nobara seems pleased with her selection, setting them aside as she stands up to place her nail polish collection back where it belongs. They still have a few minutes of waiting for the dye to work, so she settles on her bed, back to the wall, legs dangling. “Alright, spill.”
Scrambling upwards, Yuuji crosses his legs. His phone is somewhere in Nobara’s room, playing an american pop song he loves and she pretends to hate, but her head bops along with the melody.
“So!” He starts again, bringing his hands up. “I was out with Junpei the other day, and he told me that one of his friends found out from her dad that his old high school is haunted. So, obviously I researched it, right?”
“Obviously.”
“And they’re right! It’s so haunted, there’s records of, like, things flying and breaking out of nowhere, random noises at night, and get this:” he moves closer, staring at her brown eyes with as much intensity he can muster, because she has to know how serious this is. “Every night at precisely 4:44 a.m., there’s a pair of red eyes glowing on top of the second floor staircase.”
The change is minute, just a slight lift of her right eyebrow and an uptick of her lips, but Yuuji knows he got her. Out of the three of them, Nobara is the second best at pretending to be nonchalant. Yuuji can’t lie to save his life, neither can he stand still, and Megumi just looks like he constantly wishes he was doing something else.
It works wonders for their YouTube channel.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, and the uptick gives way to a smirk. “Let me guess, the building is in the outskirts of Tokyo?”
“Yeah! Jujutsu-”
“Jujutsu High? That old building?”
Yuuji nods so fast and so intensely his neck cracks.
“Oh, dude, yeah, that place is bad vibes,” Nobara picks up her own phone to check the time, shuffling to stand up. “Maki told me one of her cousins died there or something.”
She skips to the bathroom as she shrugs, and Yuuji wordlessly follows. Nobara’s house is as well known to him as his own, considering they live only a few houses apart. There are imprints of his fingers in every dish and cloth, the carpet bending to his feet at a familiar pace. Yuuji knows there’s a spare futon for him hidden in the hallway closet they walk by, just as Nobara has a toothbrush in his left drawer.
“Maki-senpai knows about the ghost? Do you think she’d join us?”
Nobara snorts, pushing open the bathroom door and ripping the shower cap off her head. “No, Maki has better things to do in her free time.”
“Bummer, she’d be a great addition to the team,” the toilet seat creaks as he sits down, Nobara turning on the cold shower to rinse off the dye, so Yuuji raises his voice a bit. “Think about it, if she joins, we could be like Scooby Doo!”’
“Hell no, they’re a bunch of nerds.”
He allows the conversation to die out as the bathroom fills with the sounds of splashing water and Nobara’s strained breathing. Yuuji had asked to help her once, but she claims no one knows how to properly shampoo her hair, and he knows it’s therapeutic for her.
Instead, he thinks about the ghost. When Junpei mentioned it, Yuuji began unconsciously preparing for their new content. It started out as a simple dare back in middle school, then it became a way for them to take their minds off of classes. In a way, it helped them grow closer, since most cases required them to spend the night or a prolonged amount of time in a location.
It was a success, and Yuuji has no idea how. One day, they posted a simple, stupid video about Yasohachi Bridge, and perhaps it was the way it was filmed, or how well they worked together, but people loved it. Now, they try to make their content worthwhile, posting a few times a month. Sometimes it's simple ghost stories told from their school's creepy warehouse, sometimes they risk their lives for fun. So far, it seems to be working out.
They even have their own styles. Nobara likes to vlog, and tends to pull away from the group to wander off and yap about this and that. Yuuji likes to mix her talking and walking moments with his screaming and Megumi’s sarcasm.
Nobara turns the shower off, resting her forehead against the white porcelain. “When’d you wanna do it?”
“I was thinking next week?”
“Hm,” she ponders, the bathroom echoing her humming. “Alright, cool. Swear to you, though, if we don’t find anything interesting I’m locking you in one of the rooms.”
Yuuji blinks, completely aware she’s not bullshitting. He really hopes Junpei wasn’t lying about the red eyed demon.
On Tuesday, Yuuji’s heart is racing.
Not for any complicated reason, though. He’s resting on the school bleachers, waiting for Nobara to finish changing so they can drag their ass to Megumi’s apartment, and his body is still reeling from the aftershock of today's training. At first, Yuuji didn’t want to join the sports team, but his father believed it was a good way for him to let out any excess energy. And Yuuji had a shitton of energy.
It was a good thing, too, since Nobara became part of the cheerleading team, on her way to become cheer captain, and they both get to enjoy the benefits. Their high school is surprisingly progressive by Tokyo standards, which means Yuuji’s team has both male and female athletes. Nobara gets to cheer for Maki, and Yuuji gets to show off his skills whenever Megumi watches.
Said boy is now sitting next to him, furiously tapping on his phone, frowning. He denies it, and will do so to his dying days, but Yuuji knows Megumi is an iPad baby.
“What’s this I heard about ghost hunting?” He mumbles, not looking up.
Yuuji doesn’t pretend he isn’t looking at the argument occurring in Megumi’s family group chat. “Yup,” he pops the ‘p’, “You can thank Junpei, though. And Maki-senpai, apparently. It’s the old Jujutsu High building.”
“It’s the real deal then.”
Looks like Gojo is losing in the family argument. From the way Megumi presses his lips together, Yuuji knows he’s fighting a smile. A few desperate texts pop up, quickly followed by more arguments. Someone sends a shaky picture of a receipt, followed by an even shakier security camera footage. Gojo sends a multitude of crying emojis.
Yuuji can’t hold back any longer. “What’s even happening.”
“Gojo broke the coffee machine.”
“Wait, really?” Yuuji sighs, sending a quick goodbye to the beloved coffee machine. “Man, it always made a mean latte.”
“Yeah, the twins are dragging him through the mud.”
Yuuji shudders. He remembers the very first time he met the twins - a deadly duo, formed by Mimiko and Nanako - and while he did manage to strike a conversation with the quieter Mimiko, the way both girls managed to make him spill his entire life in less than three minutes after that is forever burned into his memory.
With one last look at the chat (Gojo is still spamming crying emojis, someone is sending what looks like blackmail pictures), Megumi pockets his phone. He draws his gaze up, across the field, undoubtedly waiting for Nobara to show up. Yuuji wonders what’s taking her so long. He also wonders how Megumi’s lashes are so fucking long.
“Do you think we could be like Scooby Doo?”
“Sure,” he doesn’t even look at Yuuji, blinking owlishly, long long long lashes fanning his cheekbones. “There’s only three of us, though. They’re a quartet.” Whatever that means.
“Dude, the dog.”
This time, Megumi turns to look at him, his green-blue-green eyes shift. “Right. Yeah, the dog.”
“How did you forget the literal main character?”
Megumi doesn’t answer, he just looks at Yuuji for a beat, then two, then his cheeks twitch and he’s looking at the field again. Finally, Nobara shows up from wherever she was, waving a cheerful goodbye to what looks like her cheer team, before turning and walking towards them, a skip on her step.
“I can just pretend my dogs are part of the team, then.”
Yuuji beams. “Bro, they’re the face of the team! I bet they can take on any ghosts.”
It’s a lie. Megumi’s dogs - Shiro and Kuro - are both absolutely massive dogs, some fancy breed Yuuji won’t even try to remember, and as intimidating as they look, they’re absolute sweethearts. They tried taking the dogs on a ghost hunt, only for the pups to nap the entire time.
It’s the current profile picture of their channel and social media.
Once Nobara joins them, the three begin their walk. It’s a short bus ride from their school to Megumi’s apartment complex, but Yuuji is still buzzing from practice, so he drags his wonderful best friends on foot. He pointedly ignores the way Nobara’s gaze burns on his face.
They make a stop at the local konbini, because Yuuji is a growing boy and they need snacks. The cashier is a tired looking young adult, too familiar with the trio to be bothered by their loud behaviour. He does wave at them as they leave, barely glancing up from his manga. Yuuji considers him a friend.
“What’s for dinner tonight?” Nobara asks as they wait for the elevator to arrive. She checks her hair on the reflection.
“If we’re lucky, Tsumiki is going to cook. If not-”
“Gojo.”
“Gojo.”
Nobara, whom Yuuji knows has eaten their sensei's cooking more times than she'd like to, shudders. He has yet to be graced with Gojo’s supposedly poisonous and inedible food. Whenever he has dinner at Megumi’s, it’s either takeout from their favorite cheap-good restaurant, or Yuuji manages to whip something up. Nobara says he’s blessed for that. Allegedly, it was Gojo’s bento that took her to the hospital last time they went hunting.
The apartment is empty when they reach it, not even the dogs coming up to greet the visiting duo. Out of the three of their places, this is the most like a home. The matching slippers, the myriad of family photos framing every inch of available wall - one time, while Megumi was recovering from a root canal, Gojo had sat Yuuji down and showed him his prized ‘Baby Gumi’ pictures, Tsumiki had laughed along until Gojo went to grab her childhood pictures - and the carefully folded blanket resting against the couch all giving the semblance of a cozy home.
“We might have some frozen dumplings, unless Nanako ate them.”
Megumi drops his backpack on the floor, underneath a very large, very colorful ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ painting in English, something Satoru brought from one of his trips overseas.
As they walk to the kitchen, Yuuji stops by the remains of the coffee machine. And by remains, he means the base of the machine. Only that. Somehow, it looks as if it went through a hydraulic press and a laser at the same time, flattening and slicing at odd intervals. Truly, a masterpiece.
“How the fuck did Gojo do this?”
Beside him, Nobara sniffs. “I stopped asking this question years ago, dude.”
They make their way to Megumi’s bedroom after a short snack break consisting of spicy noodles and banana milk, taking their designated seats on the floor. Nobara pulls some mochi from her bag, proudly displaying it as some grand prize. Soon enough, the room is filled with wrinkling plastic and pencil scratching paper.
“I asked Maki-senpai earlier about the hauntings,” Yuuji mutters, chewing on his pencil and ignoring Nobara’s disgusted noise. “Okkotsu-senpai mentioned weird growling too.”
“Okkotsu?”
“Yeah, apparently he went there once with a childhood friend of his. It’s not surprising, since we’re dealing with a building that’s, like, centuries old. Probably has hundreds of ghosts in it.”
“Still, I’m surprised he went there,” Megumi continues, resting his chin on his knees as Yuuji ponders the best way to tell him he has leftover powder on his upper lip. Maybe he could clean it like in the movies. “Senpai seems too focused to wander into abandoned buildings for fun.”
“I heard he did it because of Inumaki-senpai, but who knows,” Nobara says, as if she doesn’t run the gossip mill like an army sergeant.
Yuuji shrugs, drawing a stickman figure on the bottom left corner of his paper. “Maybe it’s a hobby. Maybe he’s, like, super cool and focused to others but around his friends he’s someone else.” He looks up, stares at Megumi’s clouded gaze, and promptly ignores the way Nobara stiffens. “Kinda like you, Gumi.”
Yuuji grins, Nobara gags. There’s the faintest touch of pink on Megumi’s ears, so that's a win.
By the time the sun began to set, they had finished their preparations. Having done this ‘ghost hunting’ for years by now, the three of them already know what works and what doesn’t. Besides, neither of them ever say it outloud, but they’re doing this more for the love of the game than actually trying to find ghosts.
Only one time they managed to find something, and it was during an impromptu walk around Shinjuku. The video, which hosts the thumbnail of the three of them mid-scream as a chair moves one millimeter to the left, sits proudly on their channel at 10million views.
Yuuji swears the reason is because of their immaculate vibes and Hollywood level camerawork. Nobara proudly claims it’s because of all the ‘gratuitous hand-holding post-scream’. Megumi refuses to acknowledge that he lost his composure.
Yuuji looks up from his homework to share a confused glance with Nobara, only to find her smiling at her phone, kicking her legs up like the teenage girl she is. He sighs.
Megumi’s room is clean, too clean for Yuuji’s clumsy ass, and with a quiet type of personality befitting its owner. Next to the door stands his wall length bookcase, full of his favorite books and the trinkets he’d gained through the years. A record player softly plays the ending notes of a Mitski song, carefully tucked away next to his ever growing record collection.
Yuuji drags his eyes to the boy himself, whose eyes are glued to his computer screen, where a game can barely be seen. From the way Megumi sits, focused and careful, Yuuji assumes he’s playing one of those newer puzzle games. Well, that seems much cooler than his homework, and Nobara has started giggling, so he stands up. His knee pops.
“Watcha playin’, Gumi?”
On the screen, the very specific art style of famous indie game Stardew Valley stares back, Megumi’s avatar holding the equally famous mermaid pendant, getting drenched in the pouring rain coming from the beach.
“Oh, cool! You’re that far already?” Beaming, Yuuji leans over to look closer at the screen. His date is set on Wednesday, Spring 3rd and his toolset appears to have already been upgraded at least to iron. “Man, I can’t make it past Summer. Everytime the Luau comes up, I end up offering something shitty, so I have to start all over again.”
Megumi blinks. “Huh.”
“Yeah, it’s really bad. Plus, I keep dying on the mines. Like, the bug mosquito looking things, they’re so gross,” On the screen, the avatar starts walking back to Pelican Town, “Oh, can I see your farm? I bet it’s all pretty.”
“It’s just a farm.”
“Nah, I’m sure you followed like, a million tutorials, maybe even used Pinterest for it,” there, clear as day, the beginnings of a blush creeping over his pale face, the very start of a smile-hidding press of lips. Yuuji beams. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I have a board, actually.”
“Who’re you marrying?”
Nobara perches herself behind the chair, chin prepped up on top of black hair. Megumi doesn’t even try to shake her off, startled by her sudden appearance. His avatar had walked all the way to a cutesy looking house, right above the saloon and, shocked by Nobara, had popped the question to a brown haired villager.
Alex pops up, accepting the proposal.
“Oh, of course you picked the dumb fucking jock.” Nobara says, sounding simultaneously exhausted and livid.
“Aw, I think he’s cute! He has a dog, too, right?”
The look Nobara sends him makes Yuuji feel like he disappointed her in every single lifetime. On the chair, looking very much like he’d do anything to sink and disappear, Megumi skips every dialogue and rushes back to his farm, slipping to his bed and ending the day before anything else happens.
“Are we done? Because I have things to do before we try to look for another stupid fake ghost.”
“What if this one is real?” Nobara asks, starting to pick up her things from the floor.
“Fucking doubt it.”
Their usual dynamic, unchanged in every single video, the formula to their success: Nobara insults the ghosts, Yuuji tries to be nice to them in case they have died from loneliness or any other sad sounding fate, and Megumi doesn’t believe in any of it.
Yuuji opens his mouth to retort, when there’s the sound of a door opening, a whistle and a high pitched ‘daddy’s home’ in Gojo’s signature singsong-y voice.
“Nevermind,” Megumi mutters. “I hope it’s real and it ends my miserable existence.”
Yuuji is not nervous.
This is far, far from his first time hunting ghosts. He's confident enough in his abilities and experiences to say he could do this with his eyes closed. He's a pro player in Phasmophobia. This is child's play. Beside him, Nobara is very audibly chewing her second raspberry gum as she replays the video Inumaki sent them. In it, a chair levitates off the ground inside a run down classroom.
“It's fake,” she mutters, popping a bubblegum.
“I bet my life savings it's real.”
“What fucking life savings, bro? You're sixteen. You don't have a job,” she sniffles, pops another bubblegum right at his face, smirking. “You're a broke pachinko player.”
Yuuji deflates. “That was one time!”
“That we caught you, yeah.”
He's saved from replaying when a black car stops in front of them, the driver honking to get their attention. For a second, Nobara’s expression turns acid, lips turning into a snarl as she prepares to verbally berate the driver, before realization settles in, and she squeals, grabbing Yuuji’s arm and dashing to the car. The passenger window rolls down.
“Geto-san!” She exclaims, bouncing on her heels.
On the driver's seat, Megumi’s other dad, Geto Suguru, smiles at them.
(”Seriously, some of us have zero father figures,” Nobara had said once, halfway through trying to braid Megumi's overgrown hair. “And this motherfucker has two.”
“You're very welcome to take Gojo.”
"Hell no, my tolerance is a day max with him.”
He’d laughed at that, a melodic chiming of little bells that made Yuuji half forget what they were talking about and half stare like the lovesick fool that he is.
“I wouldn't worry, though. You're Geto-san’s favorite.”
She'd gone quiet after his comment, a shy smile on her face.)
“Hello, you two,” the man says, smiling gleefully as they climb onto the backseat, finding Megumi scrolling on his kindle. “Heading outside of Tokyo this time, yes? Satoru mentioned this one might be a big one.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” Yuuji nods, arms securing his overflowing bag. He likes to be prepared after they nearly froze to death the very first time. “Every source gives off huge spooky vibes, we’re pretty sure this one is a vengeful ghost.”
“Won’t stop you from talking to it,”
“Well, yeah,” he turns to Nobara, frowning. “We don’t know what it’s avenging.”
“Maybe it likes to eat the souls of the innocent.”
“That’s such bullshit, Kugi, you know ghosts can’t eat.”
The ride continues in relative silence. Geto is not as talkative as Gojo, and while Yuuji 100% trusts both of them with his life (really, his respect for Gojo is so off the charts his own father had taken him aside to ask if he was alright), he’s actually really glad it’s not his physics teacher driving them to yet another haunted location. Instead, he stares outside the window as Nobara ropes Megumi into conversation.
Tall buildings soon give way to sparse looking houses and dense forests. Yuuji made sure they left with enough sunlight to guarantee an easy trek through the thick valley before they reached the school itself, but not too early as to burn out their energy before anything exciting ever happens. The curtain of darkness makes for a better backdrop, yes, but he’d much rather they don’t waste their dwindling luck so soon.
It’s only when the car stops next to a long, long set of stairs that Yuuji pauses to consider if he has the right address.
“Wait, that’s it?”
The stairs seem to stretch upwards endlessly, to the point where the very top isn’t even visible, and neither is the school. It looks more like a path to a shrine, what with the decorative arches every few steps or so. There’s no way students took this route every single fucking day of their lives. Hell, Yuuji has to wonder if the ghost’s vengeance has something to do with stairs or ladders, and if so, he might sympathize.
“Yes, the old Jujutsu High,” Geto rests against the car, hands shoved in his pockets, gaze up and afar, like staring at a long lost memory. “Back then, we used to stay at the dorms, it was very well prepared to house students full-time.”
Well that… Does make more sense, to have students living on campus.
“Oh, I had no idea you studied here, Geto-san!” Yuuji exclaims, tilting his head. “Do you know why it closed down?”
They’ve been thinking about it, the three of them, using all the information they gathered so far to try and figure out the real story. Their senpais had given their two cents as well, and one particular rainy night the past week had them all thinking that whatever happened, it had to be major.
The old Jujutsu High had been a prestigious and religious school. It didn’t exactly fill every seat with students, but the ones who studied there all went on to follow rich and powerful careers. The children of the old clans were all said to follow in their elders’ footsteps, regardless of their own plans. Yuuji knows his father, Kento Nanami, was a student of Jujutsu High, and went on to work at a very famous law firm before quitting and opening his bakery. Satoru Gojo had been, of course, their most prized alumnus.
It was unanimously decided by the three of them that someone had to have died on the school grounds, and it caused such a stir it had to close and be moved to Tokyo.
The wind picks up, rustling Geto’s shiny black hair, strands hitting his serene face as he sadly looks away from his old high school. Yuuji’s heart plummets.
“Satoru exploded the bathrooms in a prank.”
With that, he bids them good luck, ruffles Megumi’s hair with far more care than his other guardian, and drives off into the sunset.
Nobara is the first to turn on her phone camera. “Hello, hello, welcome back to another episode of ‘Nobara Kugisaki and her two dumb lackeys finding trouble!’ I’m your host, the one and only Nobara and today-” she drags off the end of ‘ay’ as she turns around, excitedly showing off the stairway to heaven. “Is leg day!”
By the time they finally reach the school’s courtyard, the sun has fully set, no longer gracing them with its afternoon warmth and, most importantly, light. Instead, they resorted to their flashlights, which now lay on the floor as they take a moment to rest, and they cast odd shadows from the curved, slightly deteriorating roofs. They’re completely sealed off from civilization, for perhaps the first time ever, as huge pine trees surround them in a cocoon meant to be refreshing, but which turns suffocating with the stench of decay.
“Hey, guys,” Yuuji whispers, hands on his hips as he stares down at the broken off door of the main building. “I just thought of a joke.”
“Yuuji, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up for at least five fucking seconds I’m going to sacrifice you.”
Nobara says it so quickly, so perfectly, one might think she was still standing, but no. The prim and proper Nobara Kugisaki had found herself running out of energy not even two minutes into climbing the stairs, and now sits on the ground, elbows on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Yuuji opens his mouth, but quickly complies when, laying starfished on the floor, Megumi shoots him a top graded glare.
“Not all of us are as athletic as you are.”
Yuuji’s mouth twitches. He keeps looking right at Megumi’s eyes, trying to communicate as much as he can. Megumi lasts a few seconds before sighing and waving his hands, scrambling to get up. “I say you’re not athletic at all, though.” Yuuji finally says.
Nobara laughs.
Whatever atmosphere had been crafted in the courtyard as the three of them caught their breaths, it shattered as soon as they stepped inside. Not even the lingering warmth on Yuuji’s hands as he helped Megumi up can stop him from shivering head to toe and they cross the threshold, footsteps echoing as they illuminate the room. It feels simultaneously like they’re the only ones existing in this realm, and also like they’re performing the world’s best stand up comedy show in front of thousands of people.
According to the rumours, the real deal occurs only in the middle of the morning, near the stairs to the second floor, which only ends up feeding Yuuji’s Stair Vengeance theory. They plan on camping around it after midnight, so for now, they decide to follow their usual script.
Finding a classroom is not difficult at all, considering they’re in a high school, but finding one that doesn’t look like it was used to be the centerpiece of a torture scene in a horror movie is not so easy, so they turn the least smelly one into their base for the operation, setting the cameras and their equipment up for the beginning stages of bullshit before the actual ghost hunting begins.
“Y’know, I’m surprised at how clean this place looks.”
Megumi shrugs as he finishes setting up their makeshift table. “Maybe it’s the ghost of a maid.”
“God, can you imagine dying and keep doing your job?” Nobara shudders. “All by yourself too?”
“What if she has other maid friends around?”
“Guess we’re gonna find out, huh.” She stretches, yawning and checking her equipment. “Well, besties, good luck with your boring stuff,” she walks out, waving her sensory overload phone case around. “See ya soon, don’t miss me much.”
With that, she walks off, her footsteps echoing for a while before completely disappearing, something Yuuji doesn't find creepy at all, actually, no sir, no ma’am. He sits down on his chair and smiles at the camera with what he hopes is his mega watt smile, the one he has seen hundreds of times in compilations.
“Did your dad really blow up the bathrooms?” He asks once Megumi sits down by him, papers strewn on the table and Nintendo Switch at the ready. It’s less for him, and more for Yuuji, who’s unable to sit still for long, and has the attention span of a tangerine. He tries to hold it in, but his friend doesn’t seem to mind. “I mean, like, that’s gotta be hard, right? A school wouldn't close down just for that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. Gojo has a tendency to, uh, ‘destroy things without meaning to’.”
“Like the coffee machine?”
There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. Yuuji forgets all about haunted high schools and stair hating maid ghosts at the sight, the barely there shine of upper teeth. “Yeah, and the printer.”
“Man, I thought sensei was good at everything.”
“Surprisingly, Satoru is only human.”
“And the machines hate him.”
Megumi huffs a laugh. That’s it, wrap it up, everybody. The ghost was a paid actor, the real deal is how magnificent it is to watch as Megumi’s eyes shine with mirth as his cheeks turn pink, the shade of Yuuji’s hair, and his own heart staccatos with his best friend’s name engraved in every beat.
“That they do,” and even more surprising, Megumi keeps the light on his face, even as he finally faces the camera to begin his part of the deal. “Hello, today we’re going to investigate a haunting, and if there is a fate worse than roaming your old high school even after death, then we don’t wanna find out, anyway.”
[Camera1. Time: 20:27. Location: Cafeteria.]
[Description: Nobara walks around the school, her phone camera showing her face in a small square in the top left corner as the majority of the screen is taken by her back camera. She films the broken windows, the rusting dinner tables with multiple stains. “Really fucking gross, you guys,” she says, laughing as she opens the fridge, nose scrunching at even more stains. “Well at least it doesn’t have any rotten food. I’d hate to see that.”
She turns around, filming more of the cafeteria before propping her phone on one of the cleanest looking tables, taking out a small bottle of acetone and a box of circular cotton pads. “Well, story time, I guess. You’re free to listen, mister ghost. Or miss ghost. Or, uh. Whatever you are, ghost. I don’t wanna be rude.” She clears her throat, opening up her bottle and dabbing it on a pad. “Lemme tell ya’ll about our trip to Okinawa.”]
[Camera2. Time: 21:32. Location: Classroom XX]
[Description: The camera is positioned in the middle of the room, framing their little DIY recording table. The far wall has faded, yellowed wallpaper and rusting lockers, which are hanging on by a fragile screw or two. Some of the peeling wallpaper blows with the faint wind coming from the open doors, ripped from their hinges. The desks that aren’t upside down or halfway destroyed are stacked like a frail house of cards.
Yuuji is precariously balancing a pencil on his nose. “Maybe we should've come later. I’m bored.” He had shifted his position, no longer sitting on a desk chair, but now using four desks as a bed. It’s still not enough to properly host him, and his feet dangle off the left end. Megumi still remains sitting, but Yuuji has used one of his desks as his resting place, so now his arms rest near the other boy. He holds a book, but anyone with a working eye can tell he’s not reading a single line.
“Go take a walk if you’re that bored.”
“What? And leave you all alone for the ghost to chop you up? No, don’t be stupid.”
“I thought we established ghosts can’t eat?”
There’s a high pitched noise, just barely audible through the microphones they have on their shirts, and for a second both boys freeze, turning to look towards the doors. On the very end of the bottom right corner, an envelope shifts just slightly, as if brushed accidentally. The microphone picks up rustling fabric as they both turn to look at each other.
“Dude,” Yuuji mumbles. “Should we tell Nobara she sounds like a witch?”
“Sure. Pick yourself a casket, too, since you’re so keen on dying.”
“Wack.”]
[Camera1 Time: 22:10 Location: Floor 1 Hallway]
[Description: The camera bounces slightly, showing the somewhat blurry environment through the main hallway. Most of the doors were ripped from their hinges, torn apart by delinquents or by time, others are still standing, firm in their purpose. There's not a lot of trash, mostly waterlogged and moldy papers already long missing their content, disintegrating with a gust of wind, falling beneath the cracks of the floorboards.
Nobara’s face is still being shown by the little square it belongs to, and her eyes flutter as she takes a turn to film the outside of the building. The courtyard stretches for a few meters, before it suddenly cuts, presumably hosting stairs or a small hill leading to a training field. Just outside of the visible range, there’s a rusting mast. On the ground, lying like a trophy, is a piece of male underwear.
“Yo, ghost,” she mumbles through a yawn, pulling back from the view and trekking back from where she came, pausing to wave at the camera when her reflection is caught by a surprisingly clean piece of glass. “To be honest, I’m not even sure why you’re here of all places. Can’t you, like, haunt somewhere cooler? I could recommend a few places, like this one sushi restaurant- ugh, the owner is such a fucking asshole, so rude too, like-”
The camera shows as Nobara’s face turns from a disinterested frown to a startle, eyes going wide, mouth slack. Then, her pupils shift from left to right multiple times, the microphone stapled to her chest picking up her rapid breathing as she pales. The camera cuts.]
The cameras don’t stop rolling as they shift from the desks to the floor, backs against the wall and looking at the broken doors, one camera positioned towards the hallway and another showing their faces as Yuuji rambles on about the new manga series he picked up. They started to tell ghost stories, but Megumi is a terrible storyteller (he gets way too serious at some points, and Yuuji really, really likes when he gets like that so he always tends to shift closer and pay attention to his every move, but then Megumi begins to stutter and forget his lines and start all over again so he just tends to give up not even halfway through). And Yuuji, well.
The story he wanted to tell is how they found themselves in this situation.
“And so they go after him, ‘cause like, what else do you do when the guy you’re looking for is right there,”
“Right.”
“And the fucker has a bleeding hand too, I wouldn’t be able to make it like, five steps without passing out,”
“I highly doubt that. You’re surprisingly resilient.”
“Aw, thank you. But then they reach the beauty salon, I don’t know if you remember, but like, the one with the lady that can just change your face? There was this one scene with-”
“The hair girl, I remember.” Megumi nods, then his eyes widen. “But- Oh, no.”
“Yeah! Dude, fuck, I can’t tell you how I felt the moment they realized the lady was a fucking bomb! And the serial killer escaped with some guy’s face, too! I was so sad, they almost had him.”
Pouting, Yuuji drops his head. He had found this series on the internet and binged the whole anime in a week, then searched around for the manga to compare the changes. At first, the art style threw him off (he’s sixteen and hardly as buff as the main characters, plus, it’s too much to look like that) but soon enough he grew used to it. Now, it’s his new hyperfixation.
They’re sitting crosslegged next to each other, close enough for their knees to just barely touch and for Yuuji to lean over and rest his head on Megumi’s shoulder if he could. The thought is nice, and he feels the pout turning into a small smile, which in turn grows wider when the other boy’s fingertips brush against his own as Megumi flexes his fingers.
“What happens next?”
“Ok, so. Serial killer on the loose, yeah? Get this, he stole the identity of some family man and just pretends to be the father while the team tries to find his new identity, and he ends up just making his wife love him again.”
Megumi snorts. “No fucking way he fixed a marriage.”
“Uh-huh. And he has a son, too, but his son hates him. The family man, I mean. And the kid realizes that something’s up and- Oh! Oh, you’re so gonna love this.” Yuuji turns, just a little, straightening his posture, shifting forward with adrenaline. There’s an increasing pounding coming from the hallway somewhere, but this is important stuff. “Okay, there’s this cat-plant-thing that shoots air bubbles, because it was a real cat but it died, and since it was pierced with the arrow it had gained powers-”
Megumi is looking at him weird, and Yuuji wonders if this is too boring. It’s not like he ever had a problem sharing something he likes with his best friend, not at all, completely the opposite, actually. Whatever new obsession Yuuji has, Megumi is always there to listen, and he pays attention too, which is always appreciated.
But right now he looks like he’s not really here, eyes soft and gleaming and unfairly beautiful with the way the lights make them look like gleaming jades. For once, he doesn't hide the lazy smile gracing his lips, how it just barely bunches his cheekbones, tainted a faint pink. Again, he moves his fingers, and they burn Yuuji’s bare knee.
“What happened?” he mumbles. Yuuji didn't realize he’d stopped talking. He’s still staring at Megumi’s stupid smile as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. It widens. Shows his perfect teeth. Yuuji is five seconds short of a heart attack. “To the cat-plant?”
Something is pulling one of his hoodie’s drawstrings, just barely, inch by aggravating inch. “Uh. It. Fights.”
“Who?”
“The cat-plant.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
There’s a hint of blue, specks of it, really, hidden in the depths of Megumi’s eyes and it was the very first thing Yuuji noticed about him when they met. It’s also what he notices now, closer than before, closer than every other time except that very first moment when they tumbled across the soccer field after Yuuji crashed into him. It mesmerized him, and it continues to do so as he watches them flick down, and if he moves just an inch-
“Fuck! Fucking-” Comes the unmistakable yell from a very disgruntled Nobara as she slips on the floor to stand before them, chest heaving and eyes wide open. “No time for that. Ghost. Trophy room. Fuck.”
Whatever moment has been building between them shatters instantly when Yuuji remembers that yes, indeed, there’s a ghost. There should be one, after all, considering they’re spending the night in a haunted building and not some place far more romantic or far nicer like literally anywhere else.
Megumi stands first, face once again devoid of any emotion. Yuuji would’ve thought he hallucinated the whole thing if it wasn’t for the way his best friend’s face burned a flaming red. “What? For real?”
“Fucking- Oh my God, I need a second,” Nobara doubles over, so Yuuji rushes to place a hand on her shoulder in case she faints or throws up. Oh, God, hopefully not the latter, they’re so far away from the hospital-
When she looks up, her eyes are still wide, still alarmed, but she’s ginning to the point of showing both rows of teeth. Yuuji steps back.
“Oh, you guys are gonna love the trophy room.”
Well.
If the building itself was looking worse for wear, the trophy room looks as if it were the main setting for a war.
The walls are barely covered, the wooden support beams visible and rotting, the roof seconds away from collapsing, debris scattered everywhere, covered by moss and glass. On the floor, countless trophies lay, no longer as shiny as they once were. Worst of all is the stench of decay and mold, something just shy of rotten eggs.
“Okay, I understand how this may frighten you,” Megumi grumbles, nose scrunching up at the smell. “But I fail to see the ‘ghost’ you mentioned.”
“Well, that thing is a fucking asshole, because when I got here these things were just- suspended! In the air! Like-”
And then Nobara makes a movement with her hands, as if casting a spell, before swinging her phone carefully by the colorful phone strap. Her eyes widen, staring at her phone with newfound faith.
“I’m sure it was.”
“Wait!”
Nobara laughs victoriously as she turns on her phone, nails tapping away as she tries to find whatever gave her an eureka moment. The light does somehow catch on one of the trophies, close enough that Yuuji walks over to grab it. The metal is cold to the touch, warming up as his fingers turn it around, and it’s shaped like a ball. There’s a crack at the bottom, and a spot where the metal was stuck to its holder at some point.
There’s a gasp of surprise followed by the shuffling of feet as both of his friends huddle together above Nobara’s phone, her tinny voice filling the otherwise silent room.
“-haunt somewhere cooler? I could recommend-”
“Ok, so right after this, it’s when it happens.”
“Uh-huh.”
Yuuji traces over the engraved writing, picking up yet another trophy. He knows he should be paying attention to the revelations but his heart has found new meaning, so he tries his luck with picking up another trophy, and another, holding them on top of each other to the best of his abilities. They’re multiple awards, Javelin Throw, Olympic Champion, Spelling Bee Finalist, Archery-
“See! Here! Look, Megumi, I swear to God I’m gonna shave your head if-”
“I’m looking! There’s nothing there.”
“-you’ll be bald and nobody wants to date a bald bitch with an attitude.”
“Nobara, it lasted a second. It was no ghost.”
“Well, how the fuck was it in midair then?”
-Frizbee Competition, Smelliest Lunch, Most Likely to Improv On Command-
“How did Gojo-sensei win this many awards?”
Nobara drops her phone.
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah! Here. All of them are his, I think.”
“That’s impossible.”
As are most things, unless the subject in question is known for his uncanny ability to excel in anything he tries to do (and Yuuji will add cooking onto this, there’s just no way Gojo can win a Breakthrough Prize in Mathematics at the tender age of eighteen but not be able to make edible fried rice). There’s a small, round medal just beneath a piece of ceiling that’s familiar, in a way a passing stranger might be, and Yuuji tries to move towards it, only to have his movement stopped.
“Nope,” Megumi says, and there’s a haunted look on his face, simultaneously amazed and horrified. “You’re not touching that.”
“I wanna see-”
“You don’t. I don’t. No one wants to. It’s resting, leave it alone.”
Yuuji blinks, scrambling away from his grasp. “What if-”
“Yuuji, please.” And here is when he actually does die, actually. Heart seizing up when his best friend grabs both of his hands, encasing them in their permanently freezing hold, and his brain goes static when Megumi leans in and smiles. Small. Beautiful. A one of a kind delight. “Let the medal find its natural end.”
He’s pretty sure metal doesn’t deteriorate that easily, and the medal looks way too shiny to be anything sort of fake, but Megumi is smiling at him in that very rare-not-so-rare-actually way that makes Nobara gag and groan and complain while Yuuji’s brain memorizes the sight in place of the Japanese lexicon.
Except Nobara doesn’t even have time to react, because soon enough a deep, rumbling growl resounds from deep within the building, rattling the already very fragile ceiling until something heavy collides with the floor above and the wood gives away completely. A cloud of dust fills the space, spores flying away as the moonlight pierces its way inside, illuminating the room and the trophies like a second hand mirrorball.
As the dust settles, the trio, coughing and spluttering, rush backwards to avoid any danger as the room above caves in; the light from their lanterns catches onto something in the hallway, and Yuuji freezes.
He barely registers the swearing coming from his left, Nobara’s nails digging into his bicep with the strength she reserves for pyramid techniques in cheerleading. It lasts only a second, his brain filtering in how warm he feels. How, in desperation from the occurrence, he’d been holding on to Megumi, wrapped fully in his arms. But, while his two brain cells pull together that mixture of having both of his best friends holding on for dear life, Yuuji stares as two glowing red orbs look back at him, before retreating.
In his haste to follow, Yuuji accidentally bonks Megumi in the head, which in turn causes Nobara to jump backwards to avoid his flailing limbs. He screams his apologies, rushing forward in the direction he swears he saw the eyes wander to, heart pounding.
Every room looks the same, decaying, destroyed, the perfect scenario for an apocalyptic movie, he thinks belatedly, no longer aware of where he is, every turn, nook and cranny blurring at the edges and becoming one agglomerated blob of dark colors. His feet get tangled in a mess of long forgotten, foul smelling clothes, too ripped and old to be discernible, and that’s when Yuuji finally stops.
Oh, shit, he thinks through his rapid breathing, wheezing as he looks around. I’m so fucking lost.
The room he’s in looks like a lecture hall, the podium a few steps away. It doesn’t really have multiple rows of seats, however, only a plastic chair or two. In the past, perhaps it used to have more, and he can imagine students using the room to study for finals or to prepare for long presentations. Now that he shines his flashlight further in, the room looks more like a indoor gymnasium than a proper lecture hall. The plastic chairs, he notes, are facing him, and goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.
Yuuji walks in.
One of the first purchases they ever made were three small cameras they could wear while leaving their hands free, for a multitude of reasons. Yuuji likes to talk with his hands, and has a tendency to forget where he placed things. Over time, however, Nobara found she preferred the quality of her own phone camera, and uses both of them interchangeably. Megumi bought a camera himself with nightvision, mostly so that they could have a variety of recordings.
They splurged on high quality microphones, however, and Yuuji is really fucking glad for that, because they always picked up more than their ears did.
Yuuji focuses his camera on the chairs, shoes squeaking and he walks over the dirty floor, ignoring the desire to film every inch of the room, his instincts telling him that something must be up with the position of the chairs in particular. There’s no way they’d be facing the only way in and out of the place for nothing.
Yuuji clears his throat. “Hey there, ghostie. It’s me, ya boy. You, uh, you doing okay?”
The left chair turns. Slightly. To the right. As if brushed. Yuuji stops walking.
“Okay,” he mumbles, microphone picking up his heartbeat and rushed breathing. “Okay, okay, okay…”
And then he hears... footsteps. Yuuji Itadori does not whimper at that. Neither does he scream as the chair is violently thrown to the side. Nope, he stands his ground, feet planted firmly on the floor.
He does, however, run for his life the moment he feels something brushing against his ankle.
[Camera3 Time: 23:52 Location: Second Floor]
[Description: A rather well kept place, presumably the only room in the entire building still looking as pristine as an abandoned building could ever look. There are faint traces of scratch marks in odd intervals, and the camera lingers on a particularly large one, followed by a puddle of long dried liquid.
“You think that’s blood?”
The microphone just barely picks up Nobara’s voice, but the camera shifts over to her for a second, taking in her barely dishevelled look. Her clothes are dirtied from the cloud of dust they were caught in, but her hair looks immaculate, as does her face, makeup still perfectly done. She rests her hands on her hips, looking at the puddle the camera had focused on earlier.
“No,” Megumi says, voice clear, if a little static. “No, blood wouldn’t dry like this.”
The camera no longer lingers on Nobara, but her skeptical look travels dimensions. The screen bounces as Megumi walks, dead set on following the natural path laid before them. There’s a faint click, hardly caught by either device. Neither of them talk.
The silence doesn’t last long.
A loud screeching resounds, and the camera stops, shifting. Something glistens in the distance, where the hallway turns into a corner. No one notices, of course, caught as they are with the sudden sound. But they will notice, later, reviewing their messy recording, the very same medal Yuuji saw on the floor below, glistening.
“Was that-”
Just then, there’s the sound of wood bending, like steps on an old staircase, the familiar groaning echoing before it completely snaps and the camera topples as the floorboards give way, disintegrating in an instant. Muffled screaming follows the nauseating spin of the screen, high pitched swearing, and a chorus of crashes before stilling.
Shadows move from where the light shines, the camera catching the way it trembles as its holder scrambles up, microphone picking up shaky breaths and rustling fabric.
“Fuck, shit, Nobara, are you okay?”
“Run- get- holy fuck,” There’s a stuttered gasp. “Leave!”
“And go where? Are you okay?”
“Just run!”
The camera jostles as it’s picked up, just managing to capture Nobara’s fleeing back and broken pieces of furniture before being shut off.]
Their safe space is Classroom whatever-the-fuck-it-was-numbered. Yuuji reaches it in record time.
He also has no fucking recollection of how he got here. Mostly because he ran through so many similar places that it seemed to be one giant classroom-full hallway, miles and miles of torn doors and mottled floorboards. He only managed to find the correct one by accident, when the light coming from their battery powered ring light filtered through the open door.
Did he try to slam the door shut? Yes. Did it work? No.
Well. At least no one was around to see such a blatant case of cowardice.
He turns around. Jumps. Turns back again. Slowly, this time, eyes wide and face on fire like a broken heater as he registers that: 1. Yuuji is not alone, actually; 2. sitting on top of Megumi’s backpack is a large, fat, orange cat. With the brightest pair of red eyes he has ever seen.
“You!” He screams, pointing at the offending feline, which is curiously staring at him akin to how a king upon a throne stares at a court jester that displeases him. High and mighty, tail swishing, eyes like slits. “You! You-”
He gapes then, as the cat stretches, somehow maintaining eye contact. It sniffs the air, once again setting down on its chosen seat, puffing its chest proudly. Yuuji notices that it is in fact the deviant they’ve been looking for, the “red-eyed demon” that seemingly haunted the second floor stairwell at a far later hour than it is now. Time feels somewhat strange here, but Yuuji highly doubts it's close to four in the morning.
Body relaxing upon this realization, Yuuji dares to step an inch closer, wanting to dig into his backpack for one of his bentos. His father had given him a bunch of baked goods, a mixture of his and his friends’ favorites, and the idea of biting into a flaky treat makes all the horrors of the past hour vanish. His plan is thrown out of the window as the cat moves, intent on attacking him as soon as Yuuji moves a tiny bit.
A loud yowl cuts through the stale air as the cat jumps higher than he ever thought possible, aiming at his face. The sound itself is what makes Yuuji scream, too, flopping back to avoid the probably infected nails from long living in this cursed building. His body moves in instinct alone, flailing his arms up in an attempt to grasp the berserker feline as it tries to make minced meat out of him.
Yuuji winces as he feels something sharp and small piercing one of his hands, using as much strength as possible to make the cat stay still while trying to avoid hurting it in any way. He doesn't have a clue what he did. Animals love him, even the weird looking ones, it’s his natural charm! And yeah, maybe this little fella was scared, terrified even if his earlier body language was anything but. That should explain why it tries to claw at Yuuji like he personally insulted it or something.
The problem with old buildings is that they’re fragile. Yuuji knew, of course, but it’s made clearer as the door he’s resting against finally decides to break, and he falls into a mess of limbs, blood and the most monstrous cat he has ever met.
He’s saved from being murdered by a very familiar person tripping over him.
Yuuji manages to stop Nobara from falling face-first on the floor, but he’s not so quick at stopping Megumi, who trails behind her, and the three of them topple over each other like a frail sandcastle.
Abruptly, somehow scarier than any other incident tonight or over the past years, comes a faint rumbling. Yuuji realizes, as he opens his eyes, that the cat is fucking purring. It stares somewhere above him, pleased, pupils blown wide as if high on catnip, tail swishing from side to side. From the corner of his eye, he sees Nobara attempt to stand up, coughing and looking more murderous than the cat did minutes ago.
He startles as something brushes the hair from his forehead, and above a very angry Nobara is a very messy Megumi, eyes wide and panicked as he heaves breath after breath, face flushed with exertion, hair plastered to his face with sweat.
The only reason Yuuji doesn’t blurt out I’m in love with you is because Megumi beats him to it.
“You’re bleeding.”
And then he starts to sneeze.
Going down the set of stairs should be an easy job. It really should, actually. In theory. If they were in top shape and not feeling like they just went through seven different experiences at once.
Nobara is quiet, a haunted look on her face that has less to do with their ghost hunting and more to do with the person they contacted to pick them up. Normally, they would manage to complete their sleepover with no problem, but they explained to Yuuji how the top floor had given out, and coupled with the trophy room and everything else, they decided they’ve had enough. Content, that is.
And truly, they did. From Nobara’s vlog to the classroom camera to the handheld nightvision, they had hours of undoubtedly entertaining content. Yuuji is already dreading the editing.
He himself is hanging on by pure force of will. Once the adrenaline ran its course and the cat had calmly left, they managed to sit down and assess their condition. Nobara had a few cuts and cruises, a nasty one in her left eyebrow cutting it cleanly in half. Yuuji had more cat scratches than any other injury. Megumi, though, got the worst treatment.
“Can’t believe you’re allergic to cats,” Yuuji whispers, because the late hour demanded it, and because his throat is sore from screaming at demon cats. He adjusts his hold. “And he liked you so much.”
Not only that, but his ankle got messed up. Probably from the fall, Nobara had said, wrapping a makeshift splint on his leg, probably can’t walk like this, huh.
Yuuji holds him up, walking as steady as he can, holding his legs just as carefully, if not more. Megumi had refused a bridal carry with the same intensity he saves for the topics he’s passionate about, so they decided on the ol’ reliable piggyback. If Yuuji wasn’t so worried about his friend’s serious injury, he’d take a second to appreciate the feel of Megumi’s arms wrapped around his neck, hair ticking his face.
“Hm, well. It does make me question my future career,” he mumbles, tiredness starting to creep into his voice as he tightens his hold.
“What? No way, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
Megumi rests his chin on his shoulder, taking a deep breath. If Yuuji strains his eyes, he can just make out the outline of his face. He’s not distracted enough by that to not notice the way Nobara has started to limp, however. She hides it well, especially in the cover of dark the night grants them, but Yuuji is way too attuned to his friends to not see it in the way her breath hitches before she steps down with her right leg, the light from his flashlight illuminating her clenched fingers.
“Maybe we should stop a bit,”
“Ridiculous,” predictably, Nobara objects, huffing. “We’re almost there.”
“Just a little, ‘Bara, please?” When she turns her light on him, he attempts his best puppy eyes, jutted lip and all. “I’m thirsty.”
“You can drink later, c’mon.”
He bats his lashes, pouts harder. He’s pretty sure Megumi is attempting to hide a laugh in his shoulder.
“Please?”
Nobara grimaces. “You’re so fucking cringe, bro. Fine! Annoying ass-”
Her insults die out as she takes a seat right there, sighing. Megumi pulls away, so Yuuji helps him stand up, taking as much of his weight as possible to avoid worsening his injuries, maneuvering so that the two of them sit down by Nobara with Yuuji in the middle. She doesn’t hesitate to lean over and rest her head on his shoulder.
“Yuuji?” She mumbles after some time has passed, halfway through a bite of raspberry choux.
“Hm?”
“I am never listening to any of your suggestions again.”
He doesn’t want her to move, actually, quite comfortable with her familiar warmth, so he settles on a strangled “Huh?”
“First, it’s ‘Let’s go to this haunted bridge! It’ll be fun!’ and we get poisoned by wild mushrooms-”
“I didn’t know you couldn’t touch them!”
She continues, undeterred. “Then it’s ‘Hey, so, there’s this cursed theatre we should check out’ and the lights are so bright it blinded me for a day.”
“That wasn’t even my fault-”
“Don’t forget the cursed hotel,” to his utter betrayal, this comes from Megumi, who, having finished his portion of karepan, decided to join in on Yuuji Bullying Hours.
“Oho, bro, I’ll never. ‘Oh, guys, there’s this hotel downtown so famous that it was used in a movie! We have to check out’- and I got lice! Lice!” Nobara tries to hide her laugh. “Who gets lice nowadays, even.”
Yuuji is pouting, he knows, but he can’t help the way his face splits into a smile as his friends snuggle around him, yapping about every failed haunting as they finish off the baked goods he got. He can’t help it, the early morning gives off a nice atmosphere, not so chilly that they’re freezing, and the trees aren’t so tall when they’re sitting together like this. The moon shines high and bright in the sky, littered with a multitude of stars, and Yuuji awaits for the car to arrive with his two best friends wrapped around him.
Eventually, Nobara drifts to sleep, arms holding Yuuji’s like an anchor. She denies it, says she’s a lady, but she snores loudly, and he knows he’s going to wake up with drool all over his shirt. She holds his left, Megumi has his right. Their arms are linked, but his hold is lazy, like he knows Yuuji won’t ever pull away and doesn’t need to secure it.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
“Don’t. I’m right where I want to be.”
He’s thankful for the cover of night and the lack of lanterns, for his face is once again warming up. A shame he can’t see Megumi’s eyes though.
“Still,” Yuuji continues, turning his face slightly, coming face to face with a mop of black hair. “You got hurt. That’s never happened before. It shouldn’t, ever.”
Megumi shrugs, and Yuuji feels the movement just as he feels irritation swell in his chest. At Megumi, yes, but also at himself for not paying attention, for being so caught up with some stupid ghost and demon cat to properly care for the people he loves. He’s about to open his mouth, to comment on something, when his best friend shifts.
Just like before, Megumi presses his chin on Yuuji’s shoulder. The position they’re in, however, makes them much closer than before, and soon enough his vision is filled with Megumi’s face illuminated by faint moonlight, his eyes turning into two sapphires, widening for a second before he smiles, small but equally as mesmerizing.
“Yuuji,” he whispers, and oh, his name has never sounded so beautiful before. “It’s okay. I wanted to be here. Like I wanted to be in every other place.”
“I don’t like to see you hurt.”
“I know. I don’t like to see you hurt, either.”
Heartbeat on his throat, echoing in his ears, Yuuji stares as Megumi’s left hand reaches his face, tracing over the cut on his cheekbone, long dried and already scabbing. His other hand finally moves down, and neither hesitate to lock their fingers together.
“I promise I’m never taking you into danger again,”
Megumi breathes out a laugh, like chiming bells. “I’d go to Hell with you without thinking twice.” And then he leans in.
Perhaps it’s something in the morning air, but the kiss is soft, a tentative press of lips, the type that lovers tend to give each other after a hard day of work or an early morning before the day properly starts, lazy and reverent. It still makes Yuuji feel like he ran a marathon, though, and the full smile Megumi gives him after he pulls away doesn’t help alleviate that.
I love you, he thinks. “Uh,” is what comes out, and if both of his arms weren’t being held right now, they’d be flying to cover his mouth before anything worse comes out.
Fortunately for him, Megumi seems quite content to do that, moving to kiss him one more time. A peck that soon lasts a little longer as they find a soothing rhythm. His thumb traces the back of Yuuji’s hands, the underside of his eyes.
When they pull apart this time, he manages to be more eloquent. “I like you.” I love you, I love you, I love- he urges forward before Megumi can pull away. “Can I take you on a date?”
“Hm, you’re not that good at picking places, though.”
“Wha- hey, what about that ‘I’ll follow you into Hell’ talk?”
Megumi blinks, long lashes fluttering, and he’s still smiling. “That was flirting.”
“Well,” Yuuji clears his throat. “It worked.”
“Of course it did.”
“And I can totally think of a nice place to take you.”
From this close, Yuuji can see the way Megumi’s eyes soften at the edges, if possible with the tender look he had before, and his smile turns dreamy. He can also tell, from the way lights begin to appear on the horizon, that their car is almost here. So he steals another kiss.
“Don’t worry,” Megumi says as they pull apart, “Anywhere with you is perfect for me.”